


Twisted Fate and Something Shared

by Irbsandcheese



Series: Twisted Fate [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Canon Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Fix-It, M/M, No beta we die like archival assistants, Pining, Secrets, Sharing a Bed, Some Fluff, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Timeline What Timeline, but all in time, eventually, good guy Helen D. Stortion, i just like the idea of her being a decent kind of avatar, jonmartin, listen, sharing a flat, so much pining, we don't keep track of dates here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25881667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irbsandcheese/pseuds/Irbsandcheese
Summary: Jon and Martin make a plan to send Jon back in time to prevent the apocalypse. With the help of The Spiral and The End, they make a plan that quickly crashes down on them.With Future Jon, aka the Archivist, stuck in the past, he has to help his past self fix the past.---Dear Jon 2015,When you were young, you were meant to be a guest of Mister Spider. You escaped and a bully took your place. I know you’ve never told anyone this because I am a future version of you. I am Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, and I have lived through 5 years of the suffering that comes with your position. I come to you now with the hope that I can prevent the future I’ve lived through. I ended the world, and I leave you this note in the hopes you can avoid the same fate. Attached, you will find a list of every important date and a detailed description of the fear entities that are trying to corrupt this world.Trust your assistants. They will care about you if you let them. I’m afraid it’s already too late for them to leave the archives, as it is impossible to quit.Signed, Jon 2020, The Archivist
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Twisted Fate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884025
Comments: 116
Kudos: 222
Collections: Great Time Travel Fics, Time Travel Fics That Water My Crops





	1. Assistance of Powers

**Author's Note:**

> So Excited to get this written, be prepared for a big ol boi with semi-regular updates! Would highly reccomend listening to the Magnus Fluff Episode and the live show posted by Rusty Quill. It's fun and relevant.

"So what's in it for you? Why would you want to help me reverse this mess? There are endless droves of people waiting to meet their End. Isn't that fear enough for you?" The Archivist wasn't entirely sure why he was trying to convince Oliver Banks to retract his offer, but he needed to be sure he was genuine. The Archivist made sure that this last question was dripping with as much compulsion as possible. "Oliver Banks, Avatar of the End. Why do you want to help undo the apocalypse?" Static fills the air, making his answer hard to hear.

"The End drew the short end of the stick in this world," Oliver tries to resist, but Jon is a more powerful Avatar than he expected. Failing resistance, Oliver aims for nonchalance, only missing the mark a little. "Everyone is afraid all of the time now. And while the End takes everyone in time, many in this hellscape would consider death a blessing at this point. Very few people fear death, and once everyone dies, as they all do eventually, none of the entities can sustain their existence. They literally are our fear, and without us they are nothing."

Jon lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His reasoning makes sense. After all, the Beholding wants to reverse the apocalypse for similar, if slightly less poetic reasons. It's bored and those who are being watched are growing accustomed to it. Jon briefly wonders if other entities are encountering a similar problem yet.

"Alright. I accept your help. We're going to need all we can get to try to pull this off."

"Oh, delightful, Archivist! I suppose you won't mind my addition as well then?" Looking up, everyone can see the Distortion hanging halfway out of a horizontal door in the air, smile too wide and eyes too bright. She grabs the edges of the door and practically bends her body in half as she flips through the door and onto the ground besides Jon. "And before you Ask, I want to help because I quite enjoyed the world as it was. So much chaos and wickedness. Now if I want chaos, I have to cause it myself. And that's just not as much fun, now is it. The world is a metronome, and no matter the melody I spin, it always stays on beat. So I'm joining you." She makes it sound like Jon has no choice in the matter, but he isn't going to complain this time.

Martin finally stands from his place on the ground. "Right, so with you three, we have the powers of the Spiral, the End, and all the knowledge in the world. So how do we fix this hellscape now?"

The three avatars share a concerned glance, each hoping that the others might have an answer.  
Martin sighs, "Alright, let's start brainstorming then."

\---  
2015

Jon walks back towards his office, trying not to look too exhausted. He had just finished re-reading his first two statements with the new recording system as well as having helped deal with the “dog situation”. Jon’s new office is quite comfortable, despite the knowledge that his predecessor was killed at this very desk. A thorough inspection could just barely make out the dark lines in the hardwood flooring that revealed what once was the edges of Gertrude’s pool of blood. Jon wouldn’t let this observation, as well as the fact that his desk hadn’t been replaced either, break his determination. That, and the knowledge that he is woefully under qualified merely made Jon more determined. He lets this confidence show in his posture as he makes his way past the assistants’ offices and stands in front of his own.

His hand pauses on the handle as he hears a small ‘pop’ noise coming from inside, as if someone had blown a single bubble in his office. Jon might act like a skeptic, but that doesn’t mean he’s a fool. The possibilities run through his head,  _ someone’s in my office, could be planning to off me like they did Gertrude. However that may have been… Both Tim and that idiot Martin are still occupied with the dog and Elias has already made his ominous visit of the day. It could be Sasha, but she’s still moving her things from Artifact storage.  _ In a split second decision, Jon grabs the nearest blunt object, a fire extinguisher, and swings the door open expectantly.

For the briefest moment, he could swear he sees an outline of a… person? Dark skin and long greying hair make up the part that seems human. The rest of the entity seems to stare directly through Jon and makes him feel Seen all the way to his core.

And then it’s gone with another ‘pop’. If asked about it, Jon wouldn’t even be sure he had seen anything at all, but the unsettling feeling of being Known lingers for just a moment after the figure disappears. 

Carefully, he scans the room before slotting the fire extinguisher back into its place and closing the office door behind him. “Hello? I’ve seen you so you can reveal yourself now.” Jon doesn’t even know if whatever it was is still listening, but is determined to take any precaution he can. 

No answer comes, but as he steps around his desk to the place the figure may or may not have been standing, he feels a chill run throughout his body, as if stepping into a perfectly shaped freezing mold of himself. Jon pushes the unpleasant feelings aside and checks his space for anything out of place. After a few minutes of meticulous searching, Jon is satisfied and finally sits down at his desk. First day as head archivist and he’s already been through hell. Jon brings his palms up to his face and closes his eyes for just a moment to calm his nerves.

\---

When he opens them again, there are two new additions to his already disorderly desk. The first is an unsealed envelope that is halfway open with the words “Jon 2015” written neatly on the front. Beside that sits what looks like a paperweight shaped like a glass eye. Immediately, Jon nervously turns the paperweight and its pedestal so that it looks away from himself. Something about it makes him uncomfortable, even without the fact that it suddenly appeared on his desk. 

Or maybe suddenly isn’t the right word. He glances at the clock and is surprised to see that an hour has passed since he last checked. Jon is, of course, the type to lose track of time, but this time it is more likely that he fell asleep at his desk. He’s only barely started this job but his day has been hectic enough to warrant a solid nap. Especially considering the added stress of Gertrude’s disgraceful filing system. Probably explains the figure he thought he saw in his office. Merely an insomnia induced figment of his imagination. 

He peers at the items on the desk with cautious curiosity. Someone must have been quiet enough to sneak into his office to drop off the items without him noticing.  _ Maybe that’s how someone got to Gertrude.  _ The thought briefly crosses his mind. He’ll have to see if he can get a lock on his door, or at least some squeakier hinges.

One of his assistants must have placed the envelope on his desk, so he opens it to find that it is quite a few pages long. Not a new statement then; it seems like a letter addressed to him. 

_ Dear Jon 2015, _

_ When you were young, you were meant to be a guest of Mister Spider. You escaped and a bully took your place. I know you’ve never told anyone this because I am a future version of you. I am Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, and I have lived through 5 years of the suffering that comes with your position. I come to you now with the hope that I can prevent the future I’ve lived through. I ended the world, and I leave you this note in the hopes you can avoid the same fate. Attached, you will find a list of every important date and a detailed description of the fear entities that are trying to corrupt this world. _

_ Trust your assistants. They will care about you if you let them. I’m afraid it’s already too late for them to leave the archives, as it is impossible to quit.  _

_ DO NOT TRUST a Single Word Elias tells you. He is trying to end the world, just like other Avatars. The only difference is that he succeeds.  _

_ And finally, a gift. The eye that came with this letter should shroud you from Elias’ vision. He has the ability to see almost everything. This, a gift from the Beholding itself, will neutralize it for the area around it. I sincerely hope this is enough information to keep you and your assistants alive and safe. _

_ Signed, Jon 2020, The Archivist _

Jon reads the note again and absently flips through the other pages, hardly reading anything.  _ This must be an elaborate prank. Very elaborate. Who would put this much effort into something so clearly fake.  _ He finally flips to the last page and starts to actually read it.

_ Statement of Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, regarding his first encounter with the Web. _

In its entirety, there is his story. Right down to the smallest detail. And it’s written as if the words were coming right out of his own mouth. He supposes that maybe they did.

Another chill runs down his spine as he stares at the texture on the wall intently. “What the Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, it only gets more interesting from here.  
> You can find me on tumblr @irbsandcheese


	2. The Thing About Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two Bay BEE! I'm going to aim for posting at least once a week, maybe every few days. So hope you enjoy!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @irbsandcheese if you want a bunch of random content.

“I am fairly certain that with your knowledge, my link to death, and Helen’s chaotic ties, we can send one of us back alive and without any ill side effects.” Oliver has a point, that time travel can work in theory, but the Archivist Knows better. 

“For the last time, We Can’t Travel Back In Time! We would have a whole other apocalypse to deal with!” The Archivist is on the verge of violence with his new ‘teammates’. Turns out, gathering together three and a half avatars to try and save the world doesn’t make planning any less difficult. And if the Archivist has to explain the logistics of time travel again, his head is going to explode. “We can’t have the same person occupy the same time twice for more than maybe a few minutes. It would quite literally break the universe. Again.”

Martin places a comforting hand on the Archivist's shoulder. He absently runs his fingers through the strands between them, a habit he's acquired since he became part of the Web. Martin thinks it helps to calm them both down, but Jon fails to notice any difference. "Alright, Jon. Time travel is a 'no'. Unless…" his face scrunches up in thought as everyone turns to look at him, expectantly. "Jon, how long, exactly, is a few minutes?"

Jon Knows, and grabs the side of his head. Even after all this time, unwittingly gaining information from the Watcher is uncomfortable at best. "Seven minutes, and forty-eight point three two seconds before the stress of a duplicate would begin to have adverse effects on the fabric of reality." His eyes gloss over for a mere moment before coming back to reality. 

Helen lays out on the ground, stretching her limbs in a faux display of humanity. "Very enlightening, Archivist. Now what, pray tell, are we supposed to do with only seven minutes?"

\---

He's been shooting glances at the door to Jon's office for about an hour now, and Tim has been staring at Martin for about five minutes, waiting for him to notice. Martin has the grain of Jon's door memorized at this point and more importantly, he's pretty sure Jon hasn't left since the dog incident the previous morning. Well, he doesn't know for sure, but he's got a hunch. Martin's just beginning to consider knocking on his door when he's interrupted by the sound of Tim's impatient cough. 

"Try not to worry too much. He's always been a workaholic." Tim rolls over in his chair and lays a comforting hand on Martin. "I've known him for a while and we'll be lucky if we ever manage to talk him into joining us for lunch one day."

"Don't you think someone should, I don't know, check on him at least? Make sure he's eaten something?" Martin's not entirely sure why he feels the need to make sure Jon's okay. He tells himself that he would be this concerned for anyone and that it definitely has nothing to do with how attractive Jon may or may not be and how soft his hair looks and-

Tim interrupts his mental rambling, apparently having been speaking the entire time. "-a grown ass adult. And besides, it's only been a day. Why are you so worried already?" Tim gives Martin a curious look. 

Martin stands abruptly, eager to put aside his previous train of thought. "I'm uh... going to make myself some tea." He manages to make it to the door before his manners kick in. "Would uh, can I get you any, Tim? And do you know how the other assistant, uh... Sasha I think, likes her tea? I think she should be done in Artifact storage soon enough. You know, since she's having to pack up her stuff although I can't imagine what she has to pack that would take part of two days to move over here. Has she even put anything in her desk yet or is it-" He manages to stop himself from rambling. "I mean, uh. Tea." He awkwardly points his thumb in the direction of the door. Curse his manners and his social skills.

"Uhm, black for me and three sugars for Sasha, please." Martin barely hears an, "Are you alright?" as he books it down the hall towards the break room. 

As soon as he's safely behind a closed door, he leans against it. ; _I really need to stop doing things like this. Someone will think I'm a murderer or something. Or that I lied on my CV. And I cannot have a crush on my boss. This is ridiculous. Just because he's cute and nerdy and my boss doesn't mean I should have a crush on him._ He makes his way to the counter and puts the kettle on. At the smell of burning, he startles and remembers to actually put water in it first. _God, I'm a mess over this._

He retrieves three mugs at random from the cabinet and begins making up the tea. He looks down and notices one of the mugs has 'World's best Boss' written on it, but the word 'boss' is scratched out with marker and besides it reads 'Arsonist' with a small doodle of an eye on either side of the word. Martin huffs a laugh. Someone must have gotten this as a joke, because Gertrude was certainly not a good boss. Though it does give him an idea. Martin grabs another mug and decides that Jon seems the type to like his tea plain. Martin's brief time as a drink waiter serves him well as he balances all four mugs on a small platter and walks back towards the offices.

Sasha has made it back to the assistant's office by the time Martin arrives with tea. She carries with her one small box of desk supplies and a plate of leftover cake. She's laughing with Tim about something when she notices Martin come in. "Ah, you must be the other assistant, Martin. Brought a gift for ya."

She sets the cake on his desk and shoots him a smile. “Oooh, and I count four cups of tea. You’re already so thoughtful.”

Martin blushes at the comment. “Oh um thanks.” He sets the three mugs down on their desks and looks closer at the cake Sasha brought in. He can just barely make out a few letters on the top. “What’s the cake for?” Tim looks warily at Martin, unsure if he’s going to be acting weird again.

“Oh, Artifact storage decided to throw me a surprise party since I’m getting upgraded from creepy object storage to creepy story paper storage. They were certainly sad to see me go. That’s part of the reason it took me so long to get here. They certainly know how to throw a party.” Her smile immediately brightens Tim’s mood and he seems to relax some. Whatever’s going on with Martin can’t be more important than Sasha, cake, and a damn fine cup of tea.

“So you're using your ex coworkers as an excuse to skip out on our new important archival assistant duties. And on the first day no less, how dare you.” Tim’s teasing tone mixes with Sasha’s lighthearted banter as Martin stands in front of Jon’s door, one hand with a mug and one hand hesitating to knock on the door.

Martin takes a deep breath and takes reassurance from the warmth of the mug in hand.  _ It doesn’t have to be weird. You can act like a normal person and not have a stupid crush on Jon.  _ He gathers all his resolve and knocks loud enough to draw Tim and Sasha’s attention from the room over. After a few seconds with no response, Martin listens at the door and only hears the frantic rustle of paper beyond it.  _ At least I know he’s here.  _ Another knock and Martin lets himself in.

The office is a cluster of chaotic mess. There are books and papers spread out across the desk and floor, there are scratched up pieces of wood on the furniture, the few pictures in the room all have their eyes cut out and there is currently a very large spider making a nest in the corner that Jon seems to be having a staring contest with. He jumps with a start when Martin comes in, thereby losing the contest with the spider, and instead stares at Martin. 

His voice sounds hoarse, like he’s been talking non-stop or hasn’t said a word for days. “Don’t you know how to knock?!? I’m Very Busy right now and I need you all to leave.” He looks frantic and quickly grabs a stack of papers off of his desk and clutches it to his chest. 

Frozen in shock at the frazzled state of Jon and his office, Martin opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is, “I brought you some tea.”  _ Stupid Martin, he’s obviously batshit. You should be trying to help, not just bringing tea.  _

“Oh. So you did.” Jon looks surprised and almost looks like a fully functioning adult for just a moment before he starts flipping through the pages in his hands. “Trust your assistants, trust your assistants, trust assistants, they’ll care for you if you let them, page one, page one. Ah, there it is ‘Trust your assistants They will care about you if you let them. I’m afraid it’s already too late for them to leave the archives, as it is impossible to quit.’ But are you an assistant? I didn’t ask for you but you did bring me tea and you might be nice even if you’re a bit foolish and I couldn’t get rid of you even if I wanted to not that I want to but I know I can trust Tim and Sasha at least the real Sasha while she’s Sasha and not Not-Sasha but-” He suddenly cuts off his frantic tirade and fixes Martin with a kind smile.

Martin couldn’t understand half the words he said, something about not being able to fire him, but the most concerning thing is the smile. He looks oddly happy to see Martin. “Thank you for the tea, Martin. That will be all, thank you. I think I need some rest. Thank you, Martin.” 

As terrified as Martin is, he manages to walk to the side of Jon’s desk and set the tea down. For a moment, he feels like something akin to a chill skitter down his spine. It makes him glance at where the spider was in the corner and he finds it now vacant. He lets out a breath to calm himself and quickly lets himself out of the office with a brief, “You’re Welcome.”

_ Great. So you have a crush on a cute, nerdy, insane man. Fantastic. _ He sits back at his desk trying to process what just happened when Jon slams open the door to his office and everyone winces at the loud noise. He looks even worse for wear under the brighter light of the main room. 

Jon gives a brief wave and a lingering stare at both Tim and Sasha before he seems to realize that he’s been just standing there longer than is polite. “I… I’m going to take a nap in the panic room if anyone needs me, try not to.” And then he’s gone again. 

The three assistants share a look of bewildered concern. Martin speaks first, “He um… seemed a bit um, weird in his office. Rambling and making no sense. Please tell me he isn’t always like this.”

“No. At least I don’t think so. I’ve never seen him like this. Have you, Sasha?”

Sasha stands up and walks towards the door to the hallway, staring in the direction Jon went. As she turns to look at the other two assistants, the most important question comes to mind. “Do we have a  _ Panic Room? _ ”


	3. How to Fix the World in 7 Minutes or Less

“Alright, how many votes say we can kill Elias er, Jonah Magnus, in less than seven minutes?” Martin raises his hand as he speaks, looking at the Archivist expectantly. 

"As much as I'd love to kill that bastard, we can travel through time, not through space and, well," the Archivist gestures at the ruined remains of the Magnus Institute behind them, "I don't think we could make it through the tunnels in time. We'd have to start from the entrance and make our way there while in the past. I'm not even entirely sure that killing him would be an easy task."

"Distance is no object for me. I could create a door there in an instant if I wanted to. The tunnels used to confuse even me, but now I know them like the back of my hand." Helen reaches out a hand, as if to prove her knowledge. For a moment, her fingers seem to blur together, and when they manage to redefine themselves, a sixth one has appeared. "I can manipulate the tunnels as easily as I can change myself." Her distorted laugh is terrifying and makes both Martin and the Archivist wonder what else she is thinking of manipulating.

"That could work." The Archivist takes a second to reach out to his well of infinite knowledge. His eyes glaze over with a slight greenish tint to them before he comes back to himself. He almost loses his footing from the pain of interacting with the Beholding. "Ah, nope. No, bad idea. Sorry Helen, you can't be the one to travel back. Too much of the Distortion in the world will just, well… Just trust me when I say it's bad."

Martin looks concerned and helps Jon find a seat amongst the rubble when a thought occurs to him. "Wait, can you see the future now or something? Or the future-past? Or whatever."

"Not really, more like I have access to infinite knowledge of how physics and the supernatural interact. That and my knowledge of past events mean that I know that having two copies of the Distortion at the same time would cause the universe to try and merge the two. Which would not only interrupt our plans, but also be extremely painful and would corrupt some or all of Helen's memories. As I said, bad time."

"Well if we can't chop the head off of the snake, then how do we save the world?"

Oliver chips in for the first time in a while, having been deep in thought. "We don't have to kill Jonah Magnus. We can just put enough information in the past so someone there can do it. Could we just send a letter?"

The three of them stare at Oliver, considering. It's a simple answer, but when dealing with time travel, simple might be the best bet. "A letter…" Jon's brow furrows. "Enough information to save everyone while not getting the person with the letter killed. It's risky. We don't know how anyone would react for sure, but at least it won't blow up the world."

"I'd believe I'd count that as a win."

\---

There’s too many possibilities, too many futures and too much information all packaged in a teensy little essay on how his new job gets him royally  _ fucked _ . He’s read his history, his  _ future _ a hundred times already, and it isn’t pretty. Everything he’s ever, er, will have ever recorded put down as a transcript. It even has the statements he already recorded. And now he knows everything. And has no idea where to even start. It’s far too easy to focus on the fact that he will lose everything and everyone he’ll ever care about. Even Martin, someone he eventually becomes friends with, gets taken over by the ‘Web’ as the letter called it. 

The Web terrifies him the most.

There’s a spider in the corner of his office. 

It’s watching him. Waiting.

Maybe it’s already manipulated his future. Maybe everything written here is no longer accurate because the Spider Knows and has changed everything. Just like Mister Spider changed Jon’s life forever. Maybe he was put on this path ever since then. Maybe he’s been a pawn in the Spider’s web ever since he was born. How can you tell what choices are your own, how can you know the reason for anything when a monster can puppeteer people to their whims? How can you know any-

His reverie is interrupted by the sound of his office door opening and Martin stepping in. “Don’t you know how to knock?!? I’m Very Busy right now and I need you all to leave.” Jon isn’t sure whether ‘all’ refers to all of the assistants or the spider.  _ The spider, part of the web, just like Martin will be eventually. Or maybe he already is.  _ Jon looks down at the letter from the future and snatches it up.  _ If the web doesn’t know the future yet, I’m not going to be the one to reveal it to them. _

“I brought you some tea.” Jon refocuses on Martin and is surprised to see that indeed, he has tea. No one’s done something that thoughtful for him in… a while. 

“Oh. So you did.” Jon responds dumbly.  _ Martin brought me tea. Maybe the web cares about me. Or just Martin? Or is it a ruse? It certainly seems like he cares. Cares… Caring _ . He remembers the very first page of the letter, and starts shuffling through pages to find it.  _ Trust your assistants, they’ll care for you if you let them _ . 

Jon finds the page and starts thinking through the options and what the words mean. Just as he’s about to say something to Martin, his vision goes black.

\---

Jon wakes up on the cot in the extra storage room feeling well rested, which is something that hasn’t happened since before he started working for the Magnus Institute. He scrambles to stand and get his bearings. The door is closed and the lights are off. He’s fairly certain this room is soundproofed and has a lock on it so if he’s been kidnapped or trapped by Elias or any number of baddies, he’ll have to bash his way out. He reaches into his pocket for the letter opener he stashed there just after he read the letter. As he does, his hand brushes against the eye shaped trinket from before.  _ I'll think about that later. A weapon is more important _ . A safety precaution now that he knows about the evils that lurk in every corner.

He slowly makes his way towards the door, ready to at least try to pick the lock. Not that he has any experience, but he can certainly try. He reaches the handle and is surprised to find it unlocked. An ambush then. They must be guarding the door. But who, and why? He’s not exactly a formidable opponent, even if he will be one day.  _ Could be one day, not guaranteed anymore _ . 

He carefully opens the door, prepared to strike, and finds… no one. The hallway is empty and Jon is only more confused as to how he got here. He moves to sit back down on the cot, closing the door and turning on the lights as he goes. 

_ So if I wasn’t kidnapped yet, then how did I get here? I was talking to Martin, maybe he drugged the tea? But I didn’t drink any of it. Could Martin have used Web powers on me? But why? He had me alone in my office and now I’m alone here instead. I can just leave. Well, I can’t leave the Institute, but I can leave this room.  _ Jon stands again, with the intent to at least get back to his office when a knock sounds at the door, light and hesitant. Jon quickly hides the letter opener behind his back as Martin squeaks open the door and peeks in. 

“Oh, you’re awake. Have a good nap?” He seems genuinely concerned at least. He takes a step inside and holds out a cup of something that smells like coffee. "I figured a nice cup of coffee would help you wake up some. We were all about to leave the office and go for drinks. Wanted to know if you'd want to come with." He holds out the cup with a hopeful smile on his face.

_ It doesn't look like the face of evil. But that doesn't necessarily mean anything.  _ He hesitantly takes the offering and takes a sip. It has enough cream and sugar to send a horse to heaven. Just how he likes it. Jon flashes looks between Martin and the offending drink. "It's very good thanks. How did you know how I take my coffee?"

Martin's expression looks like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Uh, I um… Lucky guess?" He gives a half smile, but Jon is not reassured.

"Really? Do you know many people who take their coffee like this? Seems uncommon to me."

Martin's confidence seems to return a little bit. "I don't really know why you're interrogating me about coffee, but if you must know, I asked Tim and Sasha. Figured they might know but I didn't want that to seem like an invasion of privacy or something. You've been acting funny and I want to help, but if you don't want to come for drinks, just say so." He huffs and says something under his breath that sounds like an insult. "We're leaving in five if you wanna join us." He turns towards the door and Jon instinctively reaches out to stop him.

“Wait, wait. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Jon certainly wasn’t going to make a habit of getting on people’s bad side any more. Especially when they might be soul-sucking spiders or worse. “The coffee is appreciated. And I suppose drinks on a Friday night wouldn’t be terrible.” He hides his grimace in his coffee. He doesn’t particularly want to go for drinks with a possible monster, but if he’s going to save the world, he’ll need to know who he can and cannot trust. Draining his coffee, he stands, wobbling only a little bit, and gestures for Martin to lead the way. The letter opener slips back into its hiding place. Can never be too careful, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this fic we say insane Jon rights.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @irbsandcheese if you want random bullshit on your dash


	4. Pulling Straws for Who's the Messenger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! It's nice to be appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @irbsandcheese if you want random bullshit on your dash.

“Who’s going to deliver the letter? And to whom? I can travel back, but I doubt my past self would have enough influence to change the timeline.” Oliver Banks is honest at least, but Jon knows that Oliver can’t be the one to travel back. 

"Time travel is fickle. There are enough variables that if one goes awry, whoever travels back would likely face dire consequences. I have to be the one to go back. This entire mess was centered around me so I should deliver the message." Jon seems confident that everyone will agree. Besides, who else would willingly put themselves in danger by travelling to the past?

"Nope. No. No way. I'm not going to let you put yourself in any more danger." Martin objects. "I'll deliver the letter. Can't be that hard, right?" Ah, that’s who.

Jon steps towards Martin, close enough that they can both feel the threads that bind them thrumming with mutual affection, and rests his hands on Martin's shoulders, staring into his eyes. "I would rather live in this hellscape for an eternity than put you at risk like this. The Eye seems to have a special connection with time and relativity. I have the best chance of surviving and succeeding in this." 

Martin closes the gap between them with a hug and the connection between them electrifies with the sensation of their shared senses. Jon feels the worry radiating off of Martin as if it were his own, and similarly, Jon's confidence soothes Martin's nerves. The powers Martin gained from the Web are mostly nasty and bitter, but the two of them have found a way to use them to share the love between them. 

"If I can't keep you from going, I'm going with you. I won't let you face this alone again." Martin's determination shocks through the pair, but Jon's responding pang of sadness and longing is answer enough for Martin to know.

"It wouldn't work, love. Too many variables. Even I don't know what would happen if two people tried to make the trip. We could get half the time, no time at all, or something else entirely. It'll only be seven minutes. And I'm never truly alone when I know you love me." They stand for a moment, feeling the love pour between them. 

"Are you two quite done being sappy?" Helen and Oliver are standing to the side, Helen leaning over on something that doesn't exist, and Oliver shifting awkwardly. 

"Can we get back to time travel, please?" Despite his words, Oliver seems to think the couple is quite cute. “Archivist, do you think your past self could change the past enough to give us a different ending?”

“I think he has the best chance. Let’s hope Jon doesn’t let us down.”

\---

Jon can't help but notice Martin casting curious looks his way as he follows Martin to a bar of some sort, presumably.

“Are you okay? Anything odd happen recently?” Jon almost laughs at the question. The past two days, oh god it’s only been two days, have been the strangest and most supernatural days of his life. And according to the future, there are only more odd days to come. 

“No, not really. Just tired.” Of course, he wouldn’t tell a suspected person any of that. Martin could still be an enemy, but Jon’s willing to suffer through social interactions if it means an opportunity to interrogate his assistants. The most suspicious is of course Martin. According to the future, he can trust Tim and Sasha, but maybe this other version of Jon just didn’t have enough time with them to see their betrayal. Then there's Melanie, Daisy, and Basira. His future assistants, if he can’t keep them from joining the Institute. They don’t exactly seem trustworthy, so can he really trust his alternate self’s judge of character? 

That does beg the question, how is this future version of him so different and in what ways? He called himself the Archivist in his letter, so what’s the difference between Jon and the Archivist? He pushes the thoughts aside; he’ll have to think about it while he can look at the letter and analyze it. 

He needs to use this time to instead analyze his assistants. Starting with Martin. Martin… who has apparently just said something and is waiting for a response. “Uhm, what was that you said?”

“I said, is the ‘No’ in answer to you being okay or to nothing weird happening. I think that answers my question though. Maybe you should go back home and get some more sleep. We can do drinks some other night.” Martin seems overly concerned, and surprisingly confident in his words. For some reason, Jon had the impression that Martin fumbled over his words frequently, but it seems he was mistaken. 

“No, I mean, yes, I’m okay. I’m perfectly capable of looking after my own well-being, thank you very much. And I’m still deciding to walk with you to whatever hole you’ve found to get drinks in.”

“Alright, alright. Er, you were just acting oddly when we were in your office earlier. And it got a bit awkward in my opinion.”

“Ah, yes.” It would make sense. He had only briefly wondered how he got into the storage room, but if he fell asleep or passed out, who knows how Martin had reacted. Martin probably took him to the cot and laid him down on it. The thought makes Jon blush a little for some reason. He refocuses, needing to start gaining information. “I suppose it was. No need to worry though. So, um, how are you doing?”

Jon mentally facepalms as he looks to Martin for a response. He’s staring at Jon as if he’s someone else, but he can’t say who. “I’m, uh,” There’s the stumbling Martin he thought he was. “I’m good. Fine. Looking into some of the statements you've asked about and some of them are genuinely spooky."

"Don't use that word. They aren't 'spooky', they are merely the ramblings of misguided fools thinking they found something truly supernatural while they were drunk, high, or otherwise compromised." Jon lets out a huff. A small part of him refuses to accept the truth of the supernatural. Even now, he's still in denial. There is every chance that the letter could be a hoax. Except, it can't be. Because it has his story in it. The skeptic in him refuses to let go though, so he'll continue to keep up the act of disbelief.

Martin stares at Jon, shocked. "You-, But-, How can you still be a skeptic after everything you've seen?" The bewildered look doesn't leave his face. "Surely you must realize by now that the supernatural exists and has taken so many people. The few statements that don't record digitally? That's not natural, Jon." He's full blown ranting by the time he's done and Jon cannot believe he ever thought this man was mild-mannered and easily swayed. It only eases Jon's suspicions a little, but does give him some respect for Martin. 

"I…" Against his better judgement, Jon settles into a moment of honesty. "I know. It's supernatural and 'spooky' and weird and creepy. But part of me hopes that the things that haunt these statements will leave me alone if I ignore them." Under his breath he adds, "Didn't seem to work too well though."

They settle into an uncomfortable silence that only ends when they reach the bar where Tim and Sasha are waiting. "Thank you, Jon for telling me that." Martin holds the door open and the two make their way towards their seats.

"Wow, you managed to drag the ol' grump along. Good job, Martin!" Tim holds his hand up for a high five which is returned in kind. Jon sulkily slides into the inside seat of the booth and Martin squeezes in next to him. 

"Jon, you are here of your own will, right? You haven't been possessed by some fun monster, have you?" Sasha smiles as she makes the comment but it does little to lighten Jon's mood. 

"No, no monsters here, at least as far as I know." Now seemed as good a time as any to start questioning his assistants. "Any of you have any monster trouble I should know about?" An imperceptible gust of static fills the air as Tim and Sasha stumble over each other to answer.

"None I'd wanna tell you, bossman."

"Artifact storage has its fair share of creepy stories."

Martin smirks as he answers, "The only monster I know is myself." He chuckles nervously at the self deprecating joke before he notices his companions answers.

They each have a slightly surprised look on their faces, staring back and forth between each other and Jon. 

Martin looks surprised again. "Wait, you've actually seen spooky shit in artifact storage? What kind? Is anything evil or has anything tried to kill you? Do you have-" 

Jon cuts him off from rambling. "Would you like to tell us what kind of things you found in storage?" The thrum of static fills the air again.

"No, I do not want to talk about it at all. It was weird and spooky and I would rather not talk about work tonight." Sasha snaps her mouth shut, clearly not intending to talk about it. “How about some normal people topics?”

“Why are you so eager to change the subject, Sasha? The supernatural is a perfectly normal topic for most people.” Jon feels like he might be pressing his luck by pressing for information, but he needs to know what they know about the supernatural. And if he can get to it, what they know about the Archives and the letter from the future. Everyone fails to notice a tape recorder appear and click on in one of the booths.

Her voice almost sounds forced now. “I want a topic change so I can pretend like all of the creepy stuff that happened in the archives never happened.”

And there it is. Something happened in the Archives, now he just needs to know what. Static crackles in the air, slightly stronger now. “What happened to y-”

\---

Jon really should be kinder to his assistants. He should know from the letter that they are trustworthy, and yet he continues to berate them and treat them like enemies; like suspects. It takes most of his willpower, but the Archivist decides it is time to take Jon’s behavior into his own hands. 

“Sorry. I, um, got a bit carried away. We can move on to something lighter. Sorry Sasha.” The Archivist looks down shyly to try to complete the act. He  _ is _ sorry, just not for his own behavior. He’s been trying to keep Jon from completely alienating himself from his assistants, but taking control of a body that hasn’t been yours for a while is easier said than done. 

Jon’s assistants give him a curious look before they decide to merely add it to the list of ‘weird Jon behaviors’ and find a new topic of conversation. 

The Archivist has only been here for two days, having to share this body while also keeping his existence secret from Jon. It’s a struggle and takes most of his energy whenever he decides he needs to take over. The first time he took control was necessary. He needed to retrieve the letter he and the other Avatars had written and give it to Jon. The second time was… more indulgent. He merely couldn’t sit by while Jon berated Martin and had a mental breakdown.

He’s brought out of his reminiscing by a hand on his shoulder. Martin’s hand. But not  _ his _ Martin. “Jon, you still with us? I asked if you’d seen any good cats or dogs recently?”

The Archivist almost weeps, the echoes of Martin asking ‘you seen any good cows recently’ drifting in his head. But it’s not the same Martin. Not the Martin who was trapped in the lonely with only a flicker of hope. Not the Martin who was rescued by the Archivist, the one who gave himself to the Web to save Melanie and Georgie. Not the right Martin.

“Oh, um. Not really. I haven’t seen the Admiral in a long time.” Technically true for both Jon and the Archivist. Maybe he’ll subtly urge Jon to go see Georgie. Maybe it will calm him down and help him trust his assistants more.

“The Admiral? Jonathan Sims, do you have a pet you aren’t telling us about?” Sasha seems to have moved past the awkwardness of Jon’s questioning. Tim, however, is still casting suspicious looks towards him. 

Thankfully, both Jon and the Archivist are prepared for anyone bringing up cats and have multiple pictures of the fluffy monster at hand. Bringing out his phone, he shows the table the aforementioned menace.

The night passes with laughter and as little awkwardness as the Archivist can manage. By the end of it, he manages to make it back to his apartment before collapsing and relinquishing control of Jon’s body.

\---

Jon is bone tired when he wakes up in his bed. Wakes up? He looks at the clock and is fairly certain that he hasn’t slept a wink. Another blackout then. The last thing he remembers is questioning Sasha about her supernatural experiences. Then nothing. 

Something is clearly wrong, and the only common theme between both times he blacked out is Martin Blackwood. Jon is determined to find out what he’s done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know in the comments if anyone guessed that twist. I'm quite proud of that. The Archivist accidentally body hopped into his past self. It happens to the best of us.  
> Also, in case it wasn't clear, the Archivist is the name I'm using for the future version of Jon.


	5. Time Loops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic can have a leetle bit of pining. As a Treat. Thanks for the love, everyone. If you want to follow someone who posts random bullshit, you can follow me on Tumblr @irbsandcheese.

“So if we can't go back in time and stay there, then what is in it for us, Archivist? We haven’t exactly grown fond of this particular version of the apocalypse and there are only so many stragglers I can lure into my halls before I start to go hungry.” The Distortion sends one elongated finger in Martin’s direction. “And I am _dying_ for a good meal.” Their laugh trickles off into tiny screams that bounce through the air as if they were in a metal box instead of the ruins of the Magnus Archives. The threat does not go unnoticed. 

“No one will be feeding off of anyone here. Not anymore. Besides, we should be fine. Transferred to the new timeline with maybe vague recollection of this one. You’ll barely remember this life as if it were a dream.” He neglects to mention that his power and connection to the eye will likely grant him a stronger view of this future, but that doesn’t seem particularly relevant at the moment. "If this works, the world we currently live in will merge with the new one and we'll all get our happily ever afters in the new world. If it fails… well let's make sure it doesn't.” 

“What exactly qualifies as a good result here? We can’t get rid of the fears, and I’m not entirely sure any of us could survive without them anyway.” Martin makes a good point. “I know I certainly don’t want to be aligned with the Web again if we can help it.”

“I’d just as rather stay an avatar of the End anyway. Besides, I don’t believe we plan on going back in time far enough to change my fate anyway.” Oliver shrugs, content with his fate.

The distortion sits cross-legged in the middle of the air and brings their hand to their face. “I’ve existed in one form or another since the beginning of my knowledge. I don’t quite like Being, but if we’re going back to the institute after the days of Gertrude, we can’t stop my previous self from being Michael. And I much prefer Helen to Michael anyway.”

Jon’s not entirely comfortable with letting Helen be taken by the Distortion again, but without her help, the plan can’t work. “Alright. Seems like we need to draft up a plan so we can get this perfect.”

“What if we don’t get this perfect, dear Archivist?” Helen’s long fingers form into the shape of a question mark to punctuate her point.

"Couldn't we just do this again if we wind up in a similarly shite situation?" Oliver looks like he's afraid of the answer he might get.

The somber look on the Archivist's face is almost answer enough. "I doubt our timeline could handle a second reform. We only have one chance to make this right."

  
\---

Martin K Blackwood. What does the K stand for? Konniving?Kreepy? Knife? No… It isn’t anywhere on his CV or documents that Jon has access to. Killer? Kreepy? Wait, he already thought that one. Jon blinks blearily at the clock on his desk. Already after one. Is that am or pm? He glances at the windows to see if it’s light out but his blackout curtains block out any daylight that may or may not be there. Worst case scenario, it’s only one am. There’s still plenty of time to get work done. After all it’s only… what, Saturday? What day of the week is it? Jon grabs his phone and notes that it is one in the morning and that it is not the weekend, but is already Wednesday morning. Did he really miss two days of work without noticing? And why had no one called him to ask about his absence? He swipes down his notification panel and sees that he, in fact, does have multiple missed calls from his assistants. He must have set his phone on silent at some point. He’s about to call Sasha back when his eyes catch on something on the web-page he’s scrolling through that might be a picture of Martin in University. Closer inspection reveals results to be inconclusive. Could be Martin, but the name’s wrong. And hard to read. Has it always been this hard to read? Stupid tiny font. 

Jon’s brain goes off on a tangent about font styles and sizes as he drifts off into a nervous sleep.

Despite his body’s best efforts, Jon finds himself groggily stumbling into the Magnus Institute at five am sharp. The bags under his eyes tell of sleepless nights of investigating the possible monster called Martin Blackwood. He is tired, he is confused, he is paranoid, and he is not happy when he sees Elias walk down the staircase in his most flamboyantly elegant manner.

"Ah, Jon. I was hoping to catch you before you made it to the Archives. Might I request you join me in my office? I believe we have some matters to discuss." The smirk on his face wouldn't be friendly under any circumstances, but considering what Jon now knows about Jonah Magnus and Elias Bouchard, his smile seems downright malicious.

Jon takes a moment before responding, willing his eyes to remain open and his legs to keep him upright. He's about to resign himself to a dreadful conversation with a couple hundred years old evil maniac when a thought occurs to him. "No. I'm good thanks." Elias can't See him and he can't fire him, so why keep up the pleasantries. Jon wobbles to the stairs to the Archives as quickly as a man who is functioning with paranoia-induced insomnia is able. The receptionist, Rosie, is the only one around to witness the look of shocked consternation that takes up residence on Elias' face as he stares dumbfounded at the foot of the stairs for a moment before turning and retreating to his office.

Jon shakily makes it to his archives, miraculously not falling down the stairs in the process, and slouches into his desk chair. He once again snatches the letter out from one of the locked drawers in his desk, only fumbling with the lock for a few minutes, and begins to read the introductory statement over again. And again. And again, his eyes reading every word and understanding none of it.

\---

At some point, tea appears on his desk and Jon drinks it unthinkingly. Someone must have brought it at some point. _Martin brought it for you and you should thank him when you get the chance._ The thought comes, unbidden, but Jon’s tired mind accepts it anyways. He’ll thank Martin when he leaves the office next. 

\---

A knock. Jon’s not entirely sure how many times someone has been knocking at his office door, but he’s fairly sure it’s more than once. This is the first time he’s actually registered it for what it is. Someone wants to talk to him. “Come in.” Jon instinctively wraps his hand around the eye bauble in his pocket when Elias walks in. “Ah. Hello, Elias. Did you need something?” Jon carefully puts the letter away in its drawer and pulls out a statement to replace it on his desk. 

“I requested your presence in my office, but since it seems like you are unable to comply, I thought I would move the meeting to yours. For your convenience of course.” Something about Elias’ face just looks so slappable in the moment. 

“I was perfectly amenable to reschedule, but today doesn’t work very well for me, you see. Quite a packed schedule.” Jon bluffs, hoping to get Elias to leave him alone until he has the chance to figure some things out.

“Well, you don’t seem particularly busy now, so consider this meeting rescheduled. Now, where have you been for the past few days? As a professional, you should know to call in when you are feeling under the weather.” The jab at Jon’s demeanor does not go unnoticed. At least he knows that the eye bauble seems to work. Elias has no idea where he’s been. Not that he’s been anywhere interesting, but he at least knows he has the option now. 

“I’m afraid I had taken ill for a few days,” Jon lies, “Too busy being sickly to get out of bed or answer the phone. Though I did notice a surprising number of missed calls from you. So forgive me for not answering.” The surprising number in question being a big fat zero. 

Elias scrunches his face in distaste. “Very well. Make sure to contact someone next time you are not feeling yourself.” At this, Elias’ glare turns scrutinous, as if he were inspecting Jon’s very core self. “If such behaviour continues, you might force me to keep a closer _eye_ on you.” 

A shiver runs down Jon’s spine as the weight of the words settles in the room. He knows. He at least knows something. Or maybe he just suspects. Jon has no way of knowing how much Elias knows or if he’s just bluffing. _He doesn’t know anything except that he can’t See you._ Jon suddenly knows this and relaxes as Elias turns and walks out of his archives. 

He lets out a sigh of relief as the door closes behind him. A few minutes pass as Jon stares intently at the wall, unthinking. Maybe he should go make himself some tea. Thank Martin on his way to the break room. Is Martin even here yet? 

Before he contemplates his own thoughts too much, he’s walking towards the break room and in front of the assistants’ desks. All three assistants look at him with surprise.

“He lives! Three cheers for the bossman!” Tim says in his best sports announcer voice. 

Sasha shoots him a look of doubt and responds in her own announcer voice. “I wouldn’t call the score too quickly, Tim. Bets are out on whether our boss has turned into a zombie, a member of the living dead. Not quite a score in for the living team.”

“Fair call, Sash. But I’m afraid there’s a chance he’s not our Jonathan Sims at all! All signs point to our boy being replaced by an evil doppelganger who actually leaves his office during the day.”

A smile quirks at the edges of Jon’s mouth, but there’s not enough energy in him to do more than that. “Sorry, I’m afraid it’s much more mundane than that. I’ve just come out to get some more tea and to thank Martin.”

Still in his best voice, “Thanking Martin?!?! It Must Be A Doppelganger! Who is this man who seemingly replaced the boss we know and tolerate? Tune in next time to see who’s right in the matter!” 

Sasha bursts out in giggles and Tim’s raucous laughter quickly joins her. Martin, however looks quizzically at Jon. “T-thank me?”

“Yes. I need to thank you for.... Uh. I just need to thank you.” Why did he need to thank Martin? Martin, who could be evil and out to devour him like a bug in a web. Jon gives one final “Thanks.” Before rushing off to the break room to make some tea.

He goes through the motions of making his drink and it finally occurs to him, “Tea. I needed to thank him for tea. Jon you idiot.” He shakes his head to himself. “Don’t thank the enemy, Jon. That’s ridiculous.” He makes his tea in quiet and is disappointed to find it isn’t quite as good as normal. He hurries back to his office, trying not to draw the attention of his assistants and failing. 

“Er, Jon. I, um.” Martin’s cheeks grow pink as Jon passes by, could be a side effect of the web powers if he has them. “You’re welcome for the, er, tea, I think. And… and I’m uh, glad you’re back. Here. At work. Glad you’re here.” 

A warm feeling fills his chest and Jon wonder’s if he’s actually getting sick as he retreats back to the safety of his office.


	6. Note to Self

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we need some office shenanigans? I think we need some office shenanigans.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @irbsandcheese if you want random bullshit on your dash

“Alright, biggest problems to address. Elias slash Jonah of course, but we should probably put everything in chronological order.” The Archivist looks around the circle expectantly. They’ve started drafting a letter to send back in time, but the matter of writing it is more complicated than it seems. 

“Prentiss’ attack on me and then the Institute. If we can stop those, that will keep you from being marked by the Corruption and also keep us from being marked a bit more literally.” Martin fidgets and rubs at one of the pockmarks on his arm. “And the whole Peter Lukas thing, but that comes later.”

Helen suddenly walks out of her door, having gone off to ‘generate some fear’ as she called it. She doesn’t need to do it to survive, but it strengthens her powers and she’s going to need it if they’re opening a door to the past. “Actually, before you were so bugged out by Jane, I had some fun toying with Sasha. I suppose you lot are going to want to try and save everyone, yes?”

A resounding “Yes” comes from Martin and the Archivist, followed by a “Everyone we can reasonably save.” from the Archivist.

“What do you mean ‘reasonably save’? We’re going to save everyone. Full stop.” Martin fixes the Archivist with a gaze that only someone who has Seen the other fully can give. 

“We can’t. I wish we could do so with certainty, but we aren’t going to be the ones changing the past. That’s up to the versions of ourselves five years ago. I might have been an asshole when I first started working in the Archives, but I still wouldn’t want the world to end, or anyone who worked for me to die. I have to trust that person to do the right thing without all the knowledge and experience I have gained.” The Archivist finally pauses for breath. In barely a whisper that only Martin can hear, “And then I’ll have to live with the knowledge that I either failed or only partially succeeded when our timeline merges with the other. What if things end up being worse?”

“I doubt things could get worse. The world ended, Jon.”

“How could I forget. But… it can be worse. Because at least here… I have you.”

Tears begin to fill Martin’s eyes. “Oh, Jon.” Martin grabs the sides of his face and touches their foreheads together. “Whatever happens, it’s not in your hands after we hand it off to our past selves. And… maybe I’m just a romantic, but I don’t need the Beholding to know that I’ll still love you.”

“I know, I’m just… it sounds silly but I’ve gotten so used to Knowing everything and having to rely on trust and… and hope. It just. It scares me.” the Archivist finally gives in to the temptation to embrace Martin fully. The hug is warm, but tinged with a familiar cool of the Lonely. The Archivist is used to the feeling by now, but if everything works according to plan, his Martin won’t have to have gone through all of that. A version of Martin that doesn’t Know him, that doesn’t have the same scars and hope that makes Martin, Martin. 

Though he won’t be the same either. Another version of himself with vague memories of this reality. It could work. They can still find a happy future of themselves. 

Eventually they pull back relishing the moment but knowing that the topic at hand is far too important. “Anyway, we need to include every thing that happened to us in this letter. It’s up to us, a past version of us, to avoid the same pitfalls that we encountered and to find a solution to the problems we faced.”

\---

It's been a week since Jon came back into work and everyone has noticed him acting strangely. Especially around Martin. One moment, he'll be getting on his case for researching a case too slowly, the next, he'll be thanking him for tea and making jokes.

Jon has just closed the door to his office when Tim speaks up. "You know, I was joking last week when I suggested he's been replaced by an duplicate, but with all the crazy stuff that happens in these statements, maybe there _is_ actually something supernatural going on with him."

"Oh, come on Tim. I know I would be acting weird if I was suddenly thrust into a position I was extremely underqualified for. Admittedly, I think I would handle it a bit better than, well-" Sasha gestures vaguely to Jon's door, and immediately, it slams open with enough force to make everyone jump in their seats. The man himself twitches out of his office, seemingly fueled by enough caffeine to kill a man. 

"Be back soon." Is all they hear before he is up the stairs and out of the archives.

The three assistants stare after him for a moment, sharing looks of concern. “Is this not ‘normal’ Jon behavior then?” Martin puts air quotes around the word ‘normal,’ “Because from what I’ve seen, he’s just a tad bit uhm… Insane.”

“I think you two are making a bigger deal out of this than you should. I mean, he just left the office in a hurry. Maybe he’s taking an early lunch or meeting a friend.” Sasha doesn’t even seem entirely confident in her own assessment. Tim certainly isn’t convinced either.

“It might sound harsh, but I’m pretty sure our Jon doesn’t have any friends outside of work. We’re what he’s got. And he’s never left early from work. For any reason. It might not be zombies or doppelgangers, but something is definitely wrong.” Tim crosses his arms and leans back in his chair as if to punctuate his point. 

“Why don’t you two just ask him?” Both assistants turn their heads towards Martin as he speaks up. “If something is wrong shouldn’t you two know about it? You could help him or something.”

Tim and Sasha share a knowing look. “He’s not exactly the sharing type. More of a um, how should I put this…”

“A prick?” Sasha suggests. “Cause I’m pretty sure he’d rather turn into a zombie than open up about his personal life. You can ask him if you want, Martin. He seemed to warm up to you much faster than usual for some reason. I’d dare say he’s even nice to you. At least, sometimes.”

Martin blushes at the compliment and curses himself for being a blushy fool. Hoping for a change of topic, “Has anyone seen my notes for the statement I was working on? It was another corrupted statement, didn’t register digitally. Figured I would get a jump-start on the statements Jon’s given me.” With the mention of work, everyone settles back into research, and Jon’s brash exit is pushed to the background of their thoughts. 

Until he comes barging back down the stairs, tripping on the final step, twisting as he falls, and holding something up above his head as he lands on his back. “Ow.”

All three assistants stand and rush over to help, but Martin is first to speak up. “Do you need a hand?” He makes to help Jon up and is shooed off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, is the camera okay? Someone check the camera.” Jon shakes the case in his hand frantically so someone will take it. “I don’t want to go through the trouble of finding a cheap polaroid camera again. It took long enough this time.”

Sasha grabs the case and sure enough, inside is a perfectly undamaged Polaroid camera. “Seems fine.” Sasha inspects the camera closer. “Did you really rush out of the office in the middle of the day just to get a camera?”

“Uh. Yes.”

“Mmmhmm. Alright then. Do you need a hand?” The offer coming from Sasha is apparently just as unsatisfactory as Martin because Jon shoos her off as well. 

“I’m perfectly capable of standing on my own, thank you.” The assistants give him some room to stand up, but he doesn’t make a move. “I’m just ah, going to stay here a moment. Get back to work and put the camera on my desk please.”

They all give Jon a skeptical look, but do as they’re told and go back to their desks.

Minutes pass, and Jon still doesn’t get up. “Okay, you two might be right. He’s being a bit weird.” Sasha whispers, hoping not to draw Jon’s attention. 

“A bit? Really Sasha?” Martin hisses. “He’s worked himself to death for a Polaroid camera. That’s not normal.”

“Well what do you suggest we do? Stage an intervention? I somehow doubt he’ll take to that. We don’t even know what we’re intervening.”

Silence fills the office for a moment while everyone thinks. Martin’s not sure what is going on, but he certainly knows that they aren’t going to get anywhere without talking to Jon about it. 

The quiet is interrupted by the gentle sound of snoring coming from the foot of the stairs. Martin walks back over and sees that Jon has fallen asleep, likely from exhaustion. His face looks a lot less squinty when he’s relaxed like this. It’s almost adorable. 

Martin shakes out of his thoughts and looks back towards the desks to see that Tim has retrieved the camera from Jon’s office and is mere moments away from taking a picture of Martin ogling Jon. “Tim wait!” Martin says, still in a stage whisper. He holds out his hand as if to block the camera, but is too late as a flash fills the area and a photo comes out. Martin groans in disappointment.

At the sound of voices, Jon stirs. Realizing where he is, he jolts upright and looks like his normal fidgety self again. “Tim! Sasha! Martin! We need to take a group picture!” He snatches the camera from Tim with surprising speed and holds it up for a selfie.

No one makes a move and it’s Sasha who finally has the courage to ask, “Is everything alright, Jon? Has something happened?” She places her hand on his shoulder and though he normally shies away from contact, he lets her. Soon Tim and Martin’s hands join to comfort Jon. 

“I… Well I’m just…” Jon stops himself before continuing but Martin’s pretty sure that the next word was going to be ‘tired’. Jon sighs. “I… I need to be able to uhh, I just need a picture of everyone. For personal reasons.”

Tim sighs, “Well if you aren’t gonna tell me or Sash, will you at least talk to Martin or some other friend? Because-”

“Martin is _Not_ my friend”

Tim doesn’t let the interruption stop him, “Because we’re obviously chopped liver to you now, after how you treated Sasha at the bar and how you’ve given me the cold shoulder for weeks now. We are your _friends_ Jon and we’re trying to care about you. Trust us enough to let us help you.”

Martin feels a little rejected at Jon’s comment, but the rest of the conversation seems more important.

Jon stares at Tim and Sasha with a look of indecision, then glances at Martin with disdain. Seemingly making up his mind, he turns to Martin. “Martin, why don’t you go out and do some field research or something. I believe the three of us need to have a private conversation.”

Disappointed, Martin nods in agreement as he walks back over to his desk. There was one statement he had been meaning to follow up in person anyway. He supposes now is as good a time as any. Martin has a few questions for a mister Carlos Vittery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Why does the name Carlos Vittery sound familiar? It's probably nothing.


	7. An Eye for an Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter's title a pun? Yes.  
> Is it technically two puns? Yes  
> Is it still a serious chapter with lots of discussion and a leetle bit of gore? Also yes.
> 
> Also, there's a supplemental work in the Twisted Fate series that gives a little background action from Elias' perspective. You don't have to read it for the story to make sense, but it does explain some things.
> 
> And I'm so Excited we're well over 10000 words and 100 kudos! Thanks so much for the responses, it makes it so much more fun to write knowing that people actually like it.  
> So this chapter is a little bit long definitely to celebrate and not because I got carried away writing dialogue. Enjoy people Actually Communicating With Eachother!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @irbsandcheese if you want random bullshit on your dash.

The Archivist stares holes into the sheaf of paper in his hands. Over four years of suffering condensed down into a handy little cheat sheet. He can’t help but be a tad bit jealous of this other version of himself. Ideally, things will be much more smooth for him. For all of them. 

Martin gently puts a hand on Jon’s chin, pulling his gaze to meet his own. His hands feel rough and calloused from the time spent in the apocalypse. When they first met Jon’s face, way back in the Lonely, they were soft and warm, barely marred by the occasional papercut. Now they're just as gentle, even though they're scarred and worn. But most importantly, they’re Martin’s hands. The ones that held Jon through his panic at the safehouse, the hands that hold him close when he’s overwhelmed, the hands that belong on Jon just as his hands belong on Martin, holding each other through everything. 

And when Martin pulls Jon in for a hug, he can think of nowhere he’d rather be. They have been through so much together, all of it now written in the letter sandwiched between them. The Archivist begins to wonder what their relationship would be like without all of the trauma between them. He hopes that they will get to find out. 

The Archivist reluctantly pulls away after a while, smoothing out the letter in his hands. “Right, so we need more than just this. We need to do something about Elias, er, Jonah.”

Helen turns in her seat in a way that no human could. “I wholeheartedly agree. Something like murder or stabbing or complete mutilation. Stick an organ on each of those sad unsharpened human fingers.”

“No, uhh… Not quite what I had in mind. I meant something for his all-seeing vision. If we drop off this letter without some preventative in the way, he’ll immediately know what’s going on and likely won’t hesitate to kill the past version of me. We need something that blocks his Sight, and well, I might have an idea. The only thing is it might require a cost of some sort.”

Martin looks concerned. “What kind of cost? Anything taken from us here will return in the other timeline, ideally.”

“Well, sure, but I think the cost would be more along the lines of suffering in this timeline while we’re here. That’s the downside of trying to make a deal with the Beholding.”

Oliver finally speaks up, “Wait, you’re going to make a deal with your dread power in order to help it thwart itself? Doesn’t that seem a bit… counterproductive for the Beholding?”

“It’s as I said earlier. The Beholding is bored. It wants things to go back to normal. I think it wants this too, as much as a giant eye in the sky can want things.” The Archivist looks up and makes eye contact with the giant eyeball in the sky. An impressive feat for most people, but more impressive is that the giant eye actually turns to look back at its Archivist. 

The Archivist looks surprised at this development, but chooses to make the most out of the opportunity. After all, they have its attention now. “Beholding, I seek the power to obscure the vision granted by the Panopticon for our mission to prevent the apocalypse. We offer whatever we have that you might consider a fair trade.” A moment passes where nothing happens. Then it does the unimaginable. Slowly, but surely, the eye Blinks, as if it’s eyelids were made of lead. It takes almost a full minute for the eye to close and reopen, but when it’s done, the Archivist is clutching at his head, graced with forbidden knowledge.

Martin rushes over, holding Jon up as he seems close to collapsing. Martin can just make out him muttering through his hyperventilating, “Too much, too much, too much.” Martin grasps Jon’s shoulders and steadies him, exaggerating his own breathing to catch Jon’s attention. Eventually, Jon’s breathing slows and the muttering stops. His pupils are blown wide as they meet Martin’s gaze. “It… We can’t. I won’t let it. It’s too much to pay. Even if it won’t last. Too much.”

As the Archivist stares into his Martin’s eyes, he can only think to do one thing. He leans forward and plants his lips firmly on Martin’s. They’ve shared many kisses over the year they’ve been together. Most were soft and warm and comforting, while some were brief and delightful. This one is neither, it’s desperate and needy, like he needs to kiss Martin in order to breathe. It isn’t a deep kiss, but it’s full of want and love.

And as much as Martin enjoys the taste of Jon, this isn’t the time. Martin pulls back and stares into Jon’s eyes, searching for what he doesn’t want to say. “What is the cost, Jon?” 

Martin may not have supernatural compulsion powers, but the Archivist is vulnerable to him anyway. He can’t lie to Martin. Not really. “It… The Beholding needs a token in order to create a protective artifact. Something relating to the power.” He pauses for a moment, waiting for someone to understand what he doesn’t want to say. Martin makes a ‘get on with it’ motion and the Archivist is forced to continue. “It wants an eye. Specifically, the eye of an acolyte that got away. It wants one of your eyes, Martin. Because you were going to belong to Beholding, but you slipped out of its grasp. You have some of the Eye’s influence, but not enough for it to have any real power over you.”

The silence hangs in the air, but Martin quickly shakes out of his shock and speaks up. “I’ll do it. After all, when we make the time jump, I’ll be back in a different Martin. All eyes accounted for, right.”

The Archivist hesitates, “Right. It’s just… it’ll mark you for Beholding. When we get shocked back to the new timeline, that new version of you will be marked for Beholding whether you want it or not.”

“So I’ll get spooky eye powers in addition to spooky web powers? Doesn’t sound so bad to me.” Martin tries to lighten the mood, but Helen is the only one who smiles at the remark. “I’ll still do it. If it means we don’t have to live in this hellscape, I’ll pay whatever cost I need to.

Martin hears Jon sigh in defeat. “Alright. If you're sure.” He places his hand on the side of Martin’s face, gently brushing his cheek. A brief, chaste kiss between them banishes any doubts Martin had. He’ll still have one eye, and an all-seeing boyfriend until they make the jump back in time. Jon pulls back and looks over to their audience. “Helen, could you do the honors? You have the best tools for something like this.”

Martin can’t help the scream that tears through his throat.

\---

With Martin safely out of the office, Jon feels slightly more comfortable in general. Especially when it comes to as sensitive a topic as this. If it weren’t for the eye bauble, he would be concerned that Martin is watching their conversation with weird eye or web powers.

With Tim and Sasha seated back at their desks and the Polaroid camera back in Jon’s office with pictures of every staff member, Jon decides to perch on the edge of Martin’s desk.

He smooths out his demeanor and somehow manages to look professional, like he’s about to give a presentation in a meeting rather than tell his assistants that he has been having blackouts during the day.

He fidgets for a moment, unsure how to start. Eventually, a cough from Tim leads him to just say it. “I’ve… been having an issue. And I don’t think that there is any non-supernatural explanation for it.”

Sasha’s eyes light up in surprise, “I thought you didn’t believe in the supernatural, Mister Skeptic.”

“I… it’s complicated. I’ve always thought that maybe if I pretended the things that lurk in the darkness didn’t exist that they would leave me alone.”

Tim lets out a short humorless laugh. “That’s a load of bullshit. None of these things give a damn about whether you believe in them or not.”

“I know that now. Supernatural entities don’t care about anything except feeding. Which is why I’m so concerned about whatever is happening to me.”

Sasha looks deep in thought, “So is something stealing your soul or something? Seems a bit far fetched.”

“No, at least I don’t think so. These things, these monsters… they feed on fear. If something were feeding off of me, that would at least make more sense. Instead whatever this is doesn’t seem to have a clear motive."

"And how exactly do you know this, anyway?" Sasha pipes up, always curious. 

Jon scrambles to find a convincing lie. "I've, um. I've had interactions with the supernatural and I've done my fair share of research on them even before I came to the institute." Not entirely a lie. "Anyway, it isn’t feeding on my fear as far as I can tell. I'm not afraid most of the time, just concerned at all the things that it's doing and the weird powers it has and it’s just… I’m getting ahead of myself.” Jon takes a moment to pause and center himself. “Let me ask you this. How many tape recorders do we have in the office?”

Confusion makes itself clear on Tim and Sasha’s faces. “Uh, two?” “Yeah, two I think.”

“Not anymore there isn’t. Sasha, do you see the tape recorder on your desk?”

A brief bit of surprise crosses her face as she picks up the tape recorder that certainly hadn’t been there before she sat down. “How did you- When did you put this here? And why is it recording?” She clicks it off and it immediately turns itself back on. “Huh, must be broken.”

“Not broken, just determined. They’ve been… appearing everywhere. We had two tape recorders when I started working here. Now there are at least seven in a drawer in my office. There’s hardly a moment I get without something listening in. I’m not sure what it is, but there are more side effects than just the tapes. I’ve been having… episodes. Where I’m blacking out and apparently doing things in the meantime.”

Their expressions turn to concern and Sasha retrieves her phone to flick on the torch function. “Did you hit your head when you fell? Do you have a concussion?” She shines the light into his eyes and he recoils, blinking spots out of his vision.

“No, no, no. It’s been going on for far longer than just today. It’s been weeks. It first started…” He’s hesitant to voice his suspicions. “It started when Martin brought me tea a few weeks ago. Then almost every time he brought me tea. Just for a few minutes, but I can’t remember anything from then. Then it happened again when we went out for drinks. I think Martin might be an Ava- he might be one of these monsters we research. I think he might be causing these blackouts somehow

Tim sighs and raises his palm to his face. “Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? Martin’s one of the sweetest people I know. He couldn’t hurt a fly. I mean, just the other day I was going to stomp a spider and he saved it by taking it outside.”

The reminder of spiders sends a chill down Jon’s spine. Should he tell them about the fear Entities and Avatars? He would rather avoid that conversation if possible. After all, ignorance is bliss and Jon knows just how mad it can drive you to know things all of a sudden. He’s going to at least have to tell them some about Elias. Or that someone is watching the institute staff via evil powers of some sort. He doesn’t want his assistants spilling any secrets when he isn’t there to block Elias’ power. After a moment’s debate, Jon settles on a partial truth.

“It’s possible, I assure you. I’ve um, kind of had an experience with the supernatural before. Something replaced a friend of mine and no one noticed for months because the thing had the ability to alter memories and seamlessly place itself into someone’s life." He tries not to stare at Sasha and imagine what her replacement would look like. "These people, these monsters… they have the power to manipulate you. And they know how to use it. So yes, Martin may seem sweet and kind, but what if that is only because he wants you to think that. I don't know what exactly Martin is, but I need to know what is going on with me. And I think Martin may have something to do with it."

Tim spins idly in his chair, hand on his chin in thought. "Okay, so even if he _did_ somehow gain the power to manipulate you, why would he be doing it? You said these things feed off of fear, so what would he be getting out of it?"

Jon fumbles, nervously running a hand through his hair. "I… uh. I don't know, maybe he's using me to gain access to… something."

"To what? Martin's got plenty of access to the library and the archives. No offense, but you aren't exactly the most influential person, boss. If he had such powers, why not do something to Elias. Or the Prime Minister for that matter. All rise for Queen Martin, puppet master of all of bloody England. Can't you see how far-fetched this is?"

Sasha has started fiddling with and inspecting the tape, but speaks up."Jon, I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for the blackouts. As for the tapes," Sasha clicks off the tape again, only for it to eagerly snap back on. "It's weird, but whatever supernatural thing is affecting them is probably not caused by Martin."

Jon sighs, frustrated at his inability to get his point across. "Listen, it's not just the blackouts and the tapes. There's more going on here, I just don't know what. I sometimes Know things. Things I have no reason to know and I can’t help it and sometimes it’s personal details that I have no right to have and sometimes it’s useful and-"

Sasha cuts him off, settling a hand on his knee to try to calm him down. "Alright, alright. I believe you. Just not that Martin's involved.” Jon can see the doubt in her eyes, but maybe she’ll believe him eventually. “So what exactly can we do to help?"

Jon seems to deflate some. "I'm not really sure, honestly. I was hoping for some suggestions. All I know is that I can't do this alone, as much as I want to. I need help and you two are the only people I think I can trust." He looks sheepish at admitting that last part. 

Tim fans himself with his hand like a Victorian schoolgirl, "Aw, thanks, boss. Maybe you can tell us next time you come back from a blackout and we can start finding connections between incidents."

Jon looks mildly impressed. "That's… actually a really good idea, Tim. Next time it happens, I'll say something."

Sasha removes her hand from Jon’s leg, but the reassuring look in her eyes is enough to remind Jon that he has people he can trust. "We've got your back, Jon. We'll do what we can. We'll help you keep an eye on yourself."

"Oh, that reminds me. There is one other complicated detail.” Jon realizes that ‘complicated’ is an understatement. Oh well. Might as well just spit it out. “There is a… um. Someone is trying to spy on the institute with supernatural means. I've found a way to block it around myself, but not for others. So if you could refrain from talking about any of this without me around. Trust me when I say we don't want him to find out."

Tim sighs in resignation, but Sasha throws her hands up in frustration. "Are you kidding me? How do you know all of this? What makes you so special to be protected from it anyway? What aren't you telling us?"

"I don't think it's safe for me to tell you yet. Please, all I'm asking is for some time and some help." The pleading in his eyes is enough to convince Tim.

Sasha fixes him with a glare. "Not good enough. But I doubt I'll get you to say anything more, so all _I'm_ asking you is to hurry up and figure your shit out. We'll help you, but it's hard to help when you don't have the full picture."

He mutters a quiet "Thank you" and hopes he’s made the right decision.Jon stands and is about to walk back to his office when he accidentally knocks a few papers off of Martin’s desk. Bending down to pick them up, a jolt of recognition surges through them at the name on the statement on top of the stack. Carlos Vittery. The statement that got Martin trapped in his apartment. _The statement that put so much fear in my Martin._ The statement that Jon deliberately Did Not put on Martin’s desk. 

Suddenly Jon Knows, and sees Martin walking towards his apartment, unaware of the wretched mass of worms and flesh that stalks him, waiting to strike. The Archivist’s eyes go wide with realization as he bolts for the door. Martin doesn’t have much time, and Jon and the Archivist are the only one who can save him. Neither one hears his assistants calling after him. Together, and driven by fear, they Run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lawd he comin. We'll see what happens with Martin and The Wiggling Squiggling Flesh Hive next chapter.
> 
> In the meantime, is it weird that I sometimes refer to Future Jon as Jon or the Archivist, depending on which perspective I'm using? Cause Martin still thinks of him as Jon, but everyone else sees him as the Archivist. And POV in the future is kindof wishy-washy. Hope it isn't too weird. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for the love! It's getting hard having to wait to post the next chapters. I'll probably give in and post chapter 8 by Wednesday.


	8. In Any and Every Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mild body horror in this chapter relating to Eyes, Worms, and Spiders.  
> I tried not to do any descriptions too graphic, but it's hard to talk about the love of your life's eye being taken out and healed without at least a little bit of disgust.
> 
> Hope you're all enjoying this fic! It's a ton of fun to write. Next chapter we get to see the climax of part one, but don't think that means the action's over. Oh no, it only gets more interesting from here.
> 
> Also, this chapter switches from Martin's perspective to the Archivist's halfway through cause I had to, but I don't think I'm gonna do it again.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @irbsandcheese. Enjoy!

It’s slimy and squishy, and most people would be disgusted by holding an eyeball in their handkerchief. The Archivist is not most people, but no matter how much fear and anguish he’s seen in the apocalypse, there is something quite disturbing about holding the recently released eyeball of the love of your life. 

The part that makes his stomach turn is that he can Feel it. He can feel the pain and suffering that he’s putting Martin through as if it were his own eye that had just been cut out. He can feel the agony of the skin weaving itself back together, a side effect of being an avatar of the web.

With the pain mostly subsided, the Archivist outstretches the eye, an offering to the Beholding.

He blinks, and the squishy texture is replaced by that of cold metal. It still remains the same shape, an eye, with the new addition of a pedestal of some sort. It looks like a perfectly normal paperweight, if a little odd. 

With that business done, he rushes back over to Martin. “How are you doing?”

Martin gives Jon a look that seems woefully incomplete without the other eye.

“Alright, dumb question. Is it healing up alright?” Jon amends. 

“As well as it can be, I suppose. I’m not entirely sure where the webbing is coming from, but I am entirely sure I don’t want to know. The pain is mostly gone though, so whatever the webs are, it seems to be working.” Martin makes to scratch at his wound, but stops himself. “Itches like hell though.”

Jon knows he could Know where the webs are coming from, but he too doesn’t want to know. “Let’s just take this as the boon that it is. It’s not like we’ve had anything close to a bandage since the cabin.” Jon grabs his hand and squeezes it. “You didn’t have to do that. We could have tried to find another offering.”

“You know that isn’t true. Beholding wanted a piece of me, and I made the choice to give it. I’m perfectly comfortable having made that decision because I know it might get us to a better timeline. And that’s worth it.”

“I know, it’s just… It shouldn’t have been you. I wish I had something else to give to it so you wouldn’t have had to.” Jon sighs, and looks a bit defeated. 

“Hey,” Martin cups the side of Jon’s face with the hand that isn’t holding his. “There’s no need to beat yourself up. We’re gonna fix everything soon. And besides, it seems to be healing nicely, if a little eerily.”

Jon leans into the touch and looks into Martin’s eye, feeling like the act doesn’t hold as much weight to it. “We’re almost there. We just need to set up the portal and then we won’t have to be here anymore.” Almost under his breath, he adds, “I’m sorry, Martin. For all of this.” 

“Let’s just… let’s do this as fast as we can.” Martin cups Jon’s face, love sparkling in his eye. “We’ve got a world to save.”

“I love you, Martin. In any and every universe, I love you.” Jon presses a gentle kiss to the top of Martin’s head before he makes his way to their other companions to start opening a door.

\---

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. If Jon doesn’t want him in the archives for a bit, he can do that. It’s not like he ever gets included in important discussions anyway. And here he was thinking that Jon might actually be nice to him sometimes. Of course he doesn’t want Martin around. Who ever does. Everyone hates Martin, what’s new?

Martin catches himself from going into a depression spiral.  _ He doesn’t hate you, he’s just frustrated. And he hasn’t had the time to learn to trust you. _ Martin sighs at himself. He just needs time. Maybe one day he’ll even be friends with Jon and the other assistants. Maybe. Jon did agree to go out for drinks because of Martin. And Sasha and Tim are starting to banter with him like he’s one of the team. 

He never really fit in with the previous archive staff. Mostly because it was basically only Gertrude, and he didn’t have much time to get to know her. Even before he joined the archives, he didn’t really know what it was like to have a group of friends. He hopes he gets to find out. 

It was getting quite late in the evening, so Martin figures he will try to make his investigation quick. It shouldn’t be too hard to gain access to the apartment and ask some of the residents about the recently deceased. 

Walking towards the apartment, all the surrounding areas are just as Mr. Vittery said. Concrete walls and parking garages make up this part of the block. There’s hardly a patch of grass big enough to walk around in anywhere in sight. The building is imposing in its own right, but its surroundings certainly add to the effect. The light at the door that should illuminate the buzzers is dark, leaving the streetlamp as the only source of light in the area. All the windows are dark and there is no sign of movement anywhere.

As he’s about to walk up to the door, he notices an open window leading into some sort of basement. It looks just big enough to fit his size and without even thinking about it, he is slipping through the window and as gracefully as he can onto the basement floor. He hits with a ‘thud’ and a small plume of dust follows his steps. Before his eyes can adjust to the dark, he pulls out his phone and turns on the torch function. 

He sweeps it around the room, illuminating boxes stacked crowding corners and a boiler against one wall. And all along the floor are a handful of tiny silvery worms. Martin takes care to step on every single one as he makes his way over to the light switch. This statement was supposed to be about spiders, not worms.

A flick, and nothing happens. A few more experimental flicks and Martin assumes that the power must be out.  _ Huh. Well now if I get caught, I can’t say someone buzzed me in. It might be better to try again another day.  _ He sets his phone down to try to climb out the window when the door to the basement squeaks open. Turning, Martin sees her.

Her pale skin practically glows with a sickly silver light while her dark hair blends into the shadows and seems to writhe slightly. She tilts her head, staring holes into Martin so intensely that he feels like he might actually walk away from this with a few holes to show for it. He doesn’t take time to analyze the holes that litter her body and face, filled with a squiggly squirming colony of worms. 

He’s halfway out the window before she even takes a step towards him, but the worms begin to swarm towards him much faster. With an agility he didn’t know he had, he rushes out the window and books it towards the tube station. He swipes off a few worms before they have the chance to burrow into him and it isn’t until all the worms are gone that he realizes he left his phone on the concrete beside the window. 

_ Priorities, Martin. _ He focuses on running as fast as he can.

Soon enough, he starts getting to a more crowded part of the city and slows so he doesn’t draw too much attention. It doesn’t stop people from giving him odd looks whenever he frantically looks behind him, making sure he isn’t followed. By the time he makes it to the station, he’s eighty percent sure that Jane Prentiss, er, that thing, isn’t behind him. 

With a sigh of relief, he takes a seat on a train and patiently waits for his stop. 

\---

He’s running, as fast as his malnourished body can take him, but it isn’t fast enough. Their feet pound the earth in time to his heartbeat as he rushes to the station to catch the nearest line to Martin’s place. He needs to save Martin, even if it isn’t his Martin.  _ What do you mean, by  _ my _ Martin? I don’t even like the guy that much. That and he might be evil.  _

**He’s not evil, he’s perfectly ignorant to the corrupted parts of the world right now. Besides, even my Martin was far less evil than I am.**

The Archivist stops in his tracks, confusion clear on his face. Did he… did the other version of himself just have commentary?

_ Yes, now if you don’t mind, we have an assistant to save. _

**Yes, Martin, Running now.** The Archivist continues his pace, thoughts spiraling as he tries to once again repress Jon’s presence. He can deal with him later. 

_ Don’t you ‘deal with me later’! Who are you?! What do you mean you’re evil?! I need to have some words with- _

Finally, some peace and quiet while he’s running to go save his boyfriend. He skids to a stop as he reaches the station, turning and almost tumbling down the stairs to reach the train before the door closes. His heart beats faster than it has since before he died as he waits for Martin’s stop. 

There is nothing but fear and worry bouncing through the Archivist’s mind as he nervously waits to see if he can make it in time. Last he Knew, Martin was walking towards his apartment. The Archivist only hopes he isn’t too late.

\---

The doors open and anyone who sees a strange dark man sprinting towards the exit might catch a glimpse of ethereal green eyes staring back at them. For the rest of them, the unsettling feeling of being watched is enough for them to look away.

The Archivist starts running again, despite his body’s protest. Jon really needs to eat more. Leave the archives more. Just take care of himself. But the Archivist doesn’t have enough energy to repress Jon for long periods of time. The adrenaline helps fuel the Archivist as he Knows that Martin is at his apartment. By his estimate, the Archivist is still ten minutes out. It’s gonna be close.

Finally, at the door to Martin’s apartment building, the Archivist realizes he doesn’t have a plan. Does he even have the power to smite an Avatar in this state? He isn’t sure, but that doesn’t stop him from smashing all of the buzzers, desperately hoping someone will let him in. He waits, impatiently trying to See what is going on upstairs, but his powers don’t grant him any insight. He can’t See Martin. 

The Archivist begins pacing back and forth, waiting for someone to buzz him in. One hand runs through his hair, much shorter than he remembers, and the other makes its way to his pocket, brushing against the eye bauble.  _ Of course. Martin must be in range of the bauble so I can’t see him. Curse my lack of foresight. _

At last, one of Martin’s neighbors takes pity on him and lets him in to the building. He wastes no time bounding up the stairs two at a time and takes in a gasp when he opens the third floor door, Martin’s floor.

_ There are webs on the walls. There are webs on the floor. There are worms in the webs on the walls and the floor. Thousands of sickly silver worms, aching and squirming and desperate for a way out. But instead they stay, merely awaiting the day, the moment that their wriggling lives end as prey. _

_ There are spiders on the webs on the walls and the floors. They search hungrily for their prey, and no matter how many worms they consume, it is never enough to satiate the hunger of revenge that devours them. The spiders weave their webs, they consume their victims, and they move to the next. _

_ Jane Prentiss moves through the webs on the walls and the floor. The spiders see Jane Prentiss. Their many eyes all focus on her, proud of what they’ve done. The spiders want Jane Prentiss here. The spiders made sure she would come.  _

_ Martin Blackwood sees the webs on the walls and the floor. He likes spiders, but the spiders here aren’t normal spiders. He knows this, and it scares him. Martin watches, helplessly caught in a web of his own, unable to do anything but watch as Jane Prentiss draws closer.  _

_ Weaver made the webs on the walls and the floor. Weaver made sure Jane Prentiss would be here. They planned it, orchestrated it. It was all according to plan. They are now in the perfect position to take their revenge on Jane Prentiss. _

_ The Archivist is scared of the webs on the walls and the floor. He is far more scared for the life of Martin Blackwood. The Archivist is not an expected party in Weaver’s plans. The Archivist freezes in the hallway, and is forced to feed his master. _

_ Jon knows nothing of the webs on the walls and the floor. All he knows, is Darkness. _

The Archivist gasps for breath, having gotten used to not making statements about his surroundings. Taking entirely too long to come back to himself, the Archivist drops the tape recorder that appeared in his hands and rushes to Martin’s door. There are now three avatars at play, and whoever this Weaver is seems to overpower Prentiss. The Archivist, however, will not be manipulated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, whoops. Did end on a cliffhanger? Oh what a traaaagedy. Wonder what will happen next.
> 
> Also, updates should be semi regular, but I have a new job now so I'll try to update by the weekend.
> 
> As always, kudos, comments and bookmarks fuel the satisfaction gremlin inside me so make sure to like if you like!


	9. Some Strings Attatched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it ladies, gentlemen, and everyone under the rainbow. Climax of part one. There will be one or two chapters after this then I'm going to take a break to plan out part two!
> 
> Until then, I'm going to try to update every Wednesday and Weekend. We'll see if I can stick to it.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr @irbsandcheese if you want some random content on your dash.
> 
> EDIT: Don't think I'm gonna be able to make an update by Wednesday. Work is more hectic than I expected. I'll try for this weekend.

The Archivist paces nervously back and forth amongst the ruins of the Institute. He runs a hand through his hair as he tries to Know exactly how to create a portal to the past, but it’s easier said than done. A few mild headaches and some theorizing later, he stops in front of Helen and Oliver, ready to instruct them. 

“Helen, you’ll need to open a door to somewhere other than your hallways. With enough focus, you should be able to open a door to nowhere. With that made, Martin and I can manipulate it so that we get the time period right. Oliver, you need to hold the door open. Something as unnatural as a door to the past is going to try its hardest to close. You and Helen together should be able to hold it open.” The Archivist stops, checking to make sure that everyone is understanding. “Then I’ll go through with the letter and bauble. I’ll try to be as quick as possible to make it back to the doorway. Once I step back through to here, the universe should re-adjust itself. And we’ll just have to hope that the past versions of ourselves succeed.”

A moment of silence passes as everyone takes in what he’s just said. This is their way out, to a better timeline. 

“So we’re doing this, eh?” Oliver Banks seems the most anxious out of all of them, except maybe Martin, who is almost always anxious. “You ready for this, Helen?”

“Right as rain, Banksy. And just so you know, Archivist, if this doesn’t work, your little playmate is going to be my next snack.” Martin visibly tenses at the threat. Helen smacks the side of her head a few times with her palm and her head spins. “Sorry about that, it seems there are still a few bits of Michael back in there. Need to get that checked out. Rest assured, your Martin is safe with us.” Her unnatural smile is not reassuring to Martin or Jon, but it’s too late to turn back now.

Helen slides a sharpened finger through the air, cutting what looks like a small slit in the world. Reaching her hands in, she slowly widens the tear into a shape just large enough to step through. Oliver places his hands at the edges, taking in the inertia that screams for the rip to close again. His powers aren’t meant to be used to prevent the end of something, but after a few seconds he nods to Jon. They can hold it open.

Martin watches on nervously, and when Jon puts a single foot through, Martin is suddenly hyper aware of every single thread that binds them together. Each and every one is pulled taut, stretching to impossible lengths that make it hard for Martin to even breathe. He takes a wobbly step towards the doorway, trying to call out to Jon, but his voice escapes as a mere whimper. 

When Jon pulls the rest of himself through, Martin collapses from the strain. His vision blurs and begins to darken at the edges. The last thing he can make out before blacking out is the mass of threads pulling him determinedly through the doorway after Jon.

Helen and Oliver share a look of bewilderment, momentarily distracted enough for the door to flicker. Sweat drips down both of their necks from the strain and they resolve themselves to the longest seven minutes of their unnatural lives.

\---

The Archivist tries his hardest to Know anything about the Weaver that has claimed this as its domain, but the damned eye bauble is too close to it for him to See anything. So instead he runs through tangled webs, squashing worms and spiders alike to get to Martin. His fear of spiders is overpowered by his fear for and love of his Martin. 

Not even bothering to check the door, he kicks it in to search frantically for any sign of Martin, Prentiss, or this Weaver character. He might not have his full power to smite, but he can certainly make them hurt. 

Glowing green eyes flicker to life around the Archivist as he steps inside, prepared for a fight. Suddenly he can see the entire room in perfect clarity, and the sight causes all of the eyes to sputter out in surprise.

Webs cascade throughout the entirety of the room and spiders inch along in corners, watching and ready to act. Suspended in the center of the room is presumably Jane Prentiss, although most of her form is obscured by thousands of tiny white spiders, skittering and consuming their prey. She’s entirely wrapped in web and multiple threads reach from floor to ceiling, with her caught in the middle. The Archivist is sure that many thousands of worms have been killed, but their corpses are nowhere to be seen, presumably taken in by the ethereal white spiders. 

The thing that surprises him most is the sight of Martin, caught in webbing… no, surrounded by webbing, cloaked in it, but not trapped. It moves with him as he approaches Prentiss, seemingly unaware of the Archivist’s presence. Martin raises a hand as he speaks, “You have terrorized us for the last time. Weaver of Fate, spin your webs around her neck and cut her life short.” The spiders’ movement picks up in a frenzy as they slowly but surely devour what is left of Jane Prentiss. Her scream is just as deafening as the first time around as her form goes limp in the webs. “Sorry about that. It was necessary for things to go according to plan. You were never in danger though. And you never will be again.” Martin looks up towards the doorway for the first time, and his eyes go wide at the sight of Jon. “Oh Jon, you weren’t supposed to-”

\---

He isn’t in control, but Jon can feel and see and hear everything that is happening around him. He can hear the Other’s thoughts spiraling in confusion and panic, something about Martin and the Web. 

“-weren’t supposed to be here. Jon, listen I can-”

Then he actually looks at what is happening. The room is full of webs and spiders and Martin and spiders and Oh God Martin is an evil spider monster and spiders are everywhere and there are so many  _ spiders. _

And suddenly Jon’s fear grips the body that he now seemingly shares, and he’s running.  _ Martin is a monster and spiders dear lord there are spiders everywhere and I’m… _ Jon’s in control again and his mind thinks frantically about where he can go. He jumps down the stairs two and three at a time.  _ Martin knows where I live and I can’t go back to the Archives, dear God, I hope he isn’t following me.  _ A glance behind him as he brushes past the front door of the complex doesn’t show any signs of stalking spider creatures. Jon frantically brushes himself off as he runs, assuring himself there are no disgusting little creatures on him.  _ Georgie’s. I can go to her and hope she forgives me and hope I can stay with her and hope that that thing can’t find me there. _

Sprinting through the streets of London at almost midnight, Jon’s adrenaline is the only thing keeping him going, and as he makes it to a tube station, his heart rate finally starts to calm down. 

And he can hear his voice. 

**We need to go back. I need answers.** His Other speaks into the back of his mind, barely audible over the panic screaming from Jon’s own psyche. Jon can feel him trying to take control, but he puts up every effort to resist him.

“Shut the fuck up,” he responds. “That thing is evil and is going to eat us and it is Martin. It’s my assistant and he is trying to kill me and I am not going to go walking into its mandibles without a fight. So we’re going to go somewhere safe. And then you’re giving me some answers.”

Only slightly embarrassed by the strange looks he receives from other passengers, Jon finds a seat and begins to dig through his phone for Georgie’s old contact info. 

**She’s already forgiven you, you know. You really should keep in contact with her more.**

As trustworthy as a disembodied voice’s advice is, Jon is not reassured. But at this point he’s decided that the best course of action is to avoid speaking to it until he’s alone. 

The train ride is only a few minutes, but it feels like forever as Jon’s adrenaline fueled panic begins to subside. With every moment that passes, he can feel the Other’s presence pushing in on him. Hopefully he can make it somewhere safe before he loses that battle.

Finally finding Georgie’s number, he makes the call. “Hello, Georgie.”  
An older woman’s voice responds, “Sorry, hun. There’s no one here by that name.”

“Oh.” Jon says dumbly. Georgie must have changed her number. “Very well, thank you.” The line goes silent and moments later the train comes to a halt. It’s the stop closest to her old place, though if her number changed, her place might have as well. Seems like he’ll have to find out the old fashioned way, because he has nowhere else he can go.

His hand hesitates over the buzzer for her apartment.  _ What if she still hates me? What if she won’t help me? What if- _

Without his volition, his finger moves forward the extra inch and presses the buzzer.  **You’ll be fine, coward.**

He stands with a shocked expression on his face as the speaker crackles to life and he hears the familiar, if sleep addled voice of Georgie Barker. “Wha? Who is it?”

“It’s um… It’s me, Jonathan Sims?” He makes it sound like a question, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking. “I, um.”

A loud buzz sounds and he can hear the door unlock, interrupting any further justification Jon could come up with. So instead he opens the door and makes his way towards her apartment, functioning mostly on muscle memory. He is so tired, and most of his energy is going towards keeping control away from his Other.

He pauses, unable to bring himself to knock. Luckily, the door opens without him, revealing a rumpled Georgie, standing in her night clothes and with a very tired look of confusion on her face.

He can’t stop himself from saying the first thing that pops into his head. “I’m so sorry Georgie, for everything.”

Her confusion only grows as she gives him a soft look. “No apologies necessary. I forgave you a long time ago.” She rubs her forehead, a tick of hers that usually meant she was frustrated. She opens up the door fully and leads him to the main room. “But you are going to have to explain to me why you’re showing up at my door at two in the morning without having spoken to me in years.”

He sits awkwardly on the couch, once familiar and comforting and now oddly foreign. Georgie looks perfectly comfortable, if extremely curious, sitting on the other side of the couch. She certainly deserves an explanation, but he isn’t entirely sure what he can explain.

**You know, I could explain it to her for you if you’d like.** His Other’s voice comes unbidden into his head

Jon practically scoffs at the suggestion. “There is no way in hell I’m going to let you do that.”

Georgie’s expression turns sour as she turns to reprimand him. “Do what? If you’re going to be rude then there’s no way in hell I’m letting you stay at my place tonight.”  
Jon raises his hands up in defense, rushing to speak, “No, no. I wasn’t talking to you. I’ll explain everything.”

“Jon… There’s no one else here. Are you sure you don’t need a hospital or something?”

“I’m fine. Well, not really. There is someone else here. There’s like, I don’t know, a ghost possessing me or something.”

Suddenly, his words are not his own as his Other speaks in a calmer and far more tired voice. “I’m not a ghost. If you let me explain, I’ll let you listen in.” Jon can feel his control slipping away due to exhaustion.

If Georgie could feel fear, she probably would, but as is she merely looks concerned.  _ Wait, Georgie can’t feel fear? How do I Know that? _

She speaks surprisingly calmly considering the situation. “Alright Jon, you’re going to have a seat and a cup of tea and then after you explain, I may or may not take you to the hospital. Cause you sound absolutely mental right now.”

“I’m not crazy, just being-”

The Other chimes in again, seemingly gaining control of their voice. “I’m not possessing you. Not exactly. That would imply that I’m a ghost, or something that doesn’t belong in this body.”

“What in the world is that supposed to mean, Jon?”

“Sorry, give me a second.” Scrounging up the last of his energy, Jon represses the Other and all of its efforts to take control seem to cease. Apparently the Other is exhausted as well. “I can explain what I know, but can I just take a short nap first? It’s been one hell of a night. 

Georgie looks skeptical. “Alright, but only because I’m tired as well and I trust you to tell me in the morning. Don’t make me regret anything. You can take the couch.”

“Thank you, Georgie.” Jon smiles kindly at her, and manages to be asleep before his head hits the couch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun twist, eh? Wonder if anyone can pinpoint any of the other time's Weaver's spoken during the series. There's a bit of foreshadowing lying about. Have fun, treasure hunters.
> 
> Also, what does everyone think of chapter length? I'm thinking of trying to make them longer, but I'm not sure. I might not update as often if they're longer.
> 
> See y'all in a few days with either Jon's followup with Georgie or Martin's cleanup lol. ;)


	10. Seven Minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter up a little early since I skipped last Wednesday. Expect another chapter up next Wednesday or Thursday. Hopefully work won't keep me too busy.
> 
> We're over 20,000 Words! I'm glad y'all are enjoying all of this and thanks for the comments and kudos. 
> 
> Also, to be clear, future bois thoughts are in Bold and present bois thoughts are in Italics. I'm gonna keep it that way to avoid confusion.
> 
> As always, if you want some random BS, follow me on Tumblr @irbsandcheese. You can send me an ask about the fic too if you want.
> 
> TW: Martin has a bit of a panic attack at the end of this chapter.

Seven minutes. They just have to wait seven minutes. Helen doesn’t have the best grasp of time, so it could have been about seven seconds or an hour at this point. All she knows is that it is getting harder and harder to hold the door. “Ollie, dear, do you happen to have the time? How much longer do we have to,” she readjusts her grip on the doorway, “Ugh, hold this?”

Oliver shrugs as much as he can with his hands wrist deep in a portal between times. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit preoccupied, Helen. It’s been maybe three minutes?”

She ponders for a moment, “I-” She starts to say something, stopping when a small spiraling scribble falls out of her mouth. As she continues, more begin toppling out. “That’s not supposed to happen.” 

Oliver stares down at the spirals in concern, only to notice that the peaks of grass that jut up amongst the concrete are dying. A glance around shows him a circle of dead plantlife expanding around him. Redoubling his focus on the doorway only causes the End to spread faster.

“I- This is not what the End is supposed to be.” Oliver struggles to speak, panic overtaking him as the circle reaches Helen’s feet. Or, what used to be her feet. 

Helen’s form is far more distorted and twisted than it has ever been. Her limbs 

become single sharpened points that curl and spiral into springs, then bounce back again to hands and feet. The circle of death extends past her and she manages to let out a surprisingly normal sounding laugh. “Good thing I’m not quite living anymore.” Her expression turns to distaste as she hears herself speak. She’s lost the parts of her voice that make her the Distortion, and instead sounds a lot more like Helen Richardson.

Minutes pass as it becomes harder and harder to hold the door open. Something 

about the rift is making their powers spiral out of control. 

“C’mon Jon, hurry up!” Oliver shouts into the void.

Helen struggles and sweat drips down her face. She looks almost human now, the only remaining distorted feature is her eyes, displaying dark spirals instead of pupils. She speaks up, barely able to eek out a whisper. “Ollie, I don’t know if I can ho-”

\---

It’s hard to be merely a bystander in your own life. For Martin Blackwood, it’s far more literal. Ever since he jumped backwards in time, he’s been careful to avoid doing anything suspicious. 

He’d been so careful. Every time he interfered in Martin’s life he was either subtle or near his eye bauble. Elias should never have known that Martin Blackwood was from the future. But now he needed to act instead of waiting and watching. Blackwood had watched as a past version of his love went insane with knowledge, he had watched while Jon went crazy questioning Sasha and Tim, and he had watched as Martin wandered into the basement where Prentiss was lurking.

But now, there is no time for waiting. There is no Jon in shining armor coming to save them, so Blackwood takes control.

Jane Prentiss knocks on the door only once before it is pulled open by a thread attached to the doorknob. She stands in shock as she watches Martin Blackwood, the least threatening archival assistant, raise a hand and summon a swarm of ethereal white spiders. Spiders quickly climb up her body and wrap around her form, cocooning her in a bundle of webbing. She has no time to react before she is trapped in a bundle hanging in the air. Each and every filthy worm that comes to her aid is met by a vengeful spider, ready to devour. 

Blackwood is gradually surrounded by webbing, draping around him like a dress. It feels right, like a mantle of his own making. Revenge never looked so elegant. 

Still unsure of his powers, Blackwood merely does what feels natural, what feels right in this form of his. He steps forward, raising a slightly shaky hand.  “You have terrorized us for the last time. Weaver of Fate, spin your webs around her neck and cut her life short.” His swarm speeds up with renewed vigor, and with merely a thought, he commands them to consume her. And make it painful. He doesn’t even flinch at the sound of her deafening scream. 

The room quiets at last and the only thing that fills Blackwood’s ears is the sound of Martin’s panic.  _ What the hell just happened? Who  _ are _ you?  _ Martin practically screams inside their head.

**Oh dear, I guess I have a lot of explaining to do now. At least I don’t have to worry about Elias overhearing, because he certainly knows everything now.** Blackwood thinks idly. Out loud, he explains, “Sorry about that. It was necessary for things to go according to plan. You were never in danger though. And you never will be again.” But before any explaining can happen, he starts for the door to explain to his neighbors that everything is fine.

And he sees Jon. Young, unmarked, skeptic Jon. The version of Jon who doesn’t love him yet. The version of Jon that probably has a protective eye bauble in his pocket. The version of Jon that now knows he’s part of the Web.

“Oh, Jon, you weren’t supposed to be here. Jon, listen I can explain-”

But most importantly, the Jon that stands in front of him is deathly afraid of spiders. He is out the door and running at full speed before Blackwood is able to finish his sentence. 

Blackwood gives chase, desperate to explain and set things right, when something occurs to him. He stops in the hallway, realizing it is covered in webs of his own making.  **If Jon was here for that, maybe Elias didn’t see everything. Maybe I can still clean everything up in time.** Before he even finishes the thought, the ethereal spiders are working on cleaning up webbing, consuming their fair share and disappearing into the woodwork. It takes almost no time for his apartment to no longer show any trace of supernatural avatars. 

Rushing down the stairs, he hopes to… do what? Follow the man who thinks he’s a monster? Who just saw him consume an avatar of fear?  **Oh god, what if he just thinks I took a random person.** He scans the street, looking for any sign of Jon, but for better or worse, he sees nothing. 

Resigning himself to having to wait until tomorrow at work to see Jon, Blackwood turns his attention inwards as he walks back towards his apartment. 

**Martin? I think you deserve some answers.** He mentally prompts his other self to ask the questions he can feel burning at the back of Martin’s mind.

_ Who are you and what did you do to that woman, Jane Prentiss?  _ Martin sounds frantic, as he speaks into the back of Blackwood’s mind.

**Ooh, difficult questions. First of all, I’m Martin Blackwood and second, I sort of fed her to an evil fear entity. I wove her out of the timeline.** He isn’t quite sure why he said that last part, but it seems appropriate somehow.  **And yes, I know that both of those answers only bring up more questions. So to answer one, I’m a version of you from about five years in the future and I’ve accidentally come back in time to prevent the apocalypse.**

Martin stares blankly at a wall in his apartment as they discuss. Somehow they can both tell that the other is genuine.  _ So, Weaver of Fate, can you explain the evil fear god part then?  _

**Oh, I’m not the weaver of fate. That’s probably the fear entity itself. As for the fears, there’s a lot to explain. You see, the supernatural is real and it all fits into one of fourteen categories.** Weaver begins, not looking forward to a long night of explanations.

\---

After a night of web coated nightmares, Martin wakes in the morning half convinced that he was imagining all of it.  _ Jane Prentiss, Fourteen fears, accidental time travel, an evil boss, and the end of the world, what an imagination I must have.  _ He thinks to himself.

Weaver, as Martin’s started calling him, speaks into his mind.  **If only. Sorry, it’s all real. And I only gave you the highlights. Most of the worst stuff happened to Jon. My Jon, that is.** Weaver seems almost sad at the thought.

Martin’s heart clenches at the last part. _My Jon._ _Does that make the present Jon Martin’s Jon?_

**I suppose you could put it that way.** Martin can tell that Weaver isn’t saying everything, but decides not to push it in favor of getting ready for work. He glances at the clock, startled to see that he accidentally slept in late, again. 

Weaver is oddly quiet as Martin throws on some work clothes and rushes out the door. He can feel Weaver’s sad sort of nostalgia and longing, but his thoughts are too indistinct to make out. Even the tube ride to the Institute is silent, as Martin thinks about how they are going to explain themselves to Jon.

_ I can’t exactly go in and say I’ve been possessed by a future version of myself who has spooky web powers. Just say Sorry Jon, That wasn’t me, it was someone else! You must be mistaken, I didn’t literally consume an avatar of corruption with creepy spiders. Oh, Hi Jon. Sorry for- _

**He’s not in the Archives.** Weaver cuts off his rambling with a sad certainty.  **He’s not going to show up cause he’s gone into hiding. Hiding from me.**

_ And how do you know this exactly?  _ Martin’s getting tired of having to force new information out of Weaver. 

**I’ve… Well, everyone who interacts with each other in any meaningful way gets a sort of connection. Sort of strings that bind them together. The more strings you have with someone, the more closely linked your lives are. One strand isn’t enough to do much, and will fade over time. As an avatar of the Web, I can see and feel these strands. Jon and I, well, my Jon and I have enough that I can tell where he is, sort of. I can see what direction he’s in, and it isn’t towards the institute.** Weaver answers the unasked question in Martin’s mind.  **Neither of us has many strands with the present Jon, but it seems like since I can remember the events that bind us together, the strings are present anyway. I could feel Jane Prentiss as well, aware of my trauma that connected us.**

Martin sits in silence, absorbing the new information.  _ So then. How do you know he’s hiding from you? _

**Call it an educated guess. He’s sort of, you know, terrified of and traumatized by spiders. I reckon we should give him a few days and see if he comes back to the institute.** Weaver sighs mentally.  **Hopefully it will be easier to explain when he’s calmed down some. Though last night does complicate things significantly.**

The train comes to a stop, and Martin begins the walk towards the institute.  _ So for now, we just have to act normally to avoid Elias’ suspicions.  _

**Sounds about right.** Together, they walk into the institute, ready for a perfectly normal day of paperwork and research. 

“Ah, Martin. I hope your day is going well. I’ll see you in my office now.” Elias leaves no room for questioning as he saunters up the stairs towards his office. 

**Shit.** Weaver’s insight is not useful as Martin tries to walk up the stairs as calmly as possible.  Elias’ office door is left open so Martin makes his way inside and perches on the edge of the guest seat, ready to leave as soon as is acceptable.

Elias looks overly formal as he asks, “How was your day yesterday?” Lucky for Martin, there doesn’t appear to be any compulsion behind it.

“Fine, I guess.” He replies, trying to stay casual.  Elias peers at him, a look of accusation on his face.  **He knows you’re lying. We need to avoid suspicion.** Weaver’s discomfort is palpable.  “Er, well, if you actually want to know, something weird happened.” Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it. Martin shifts uncomfortably, desperately wishing he were anywhere else. 

Elias puts his elbows on the desk and leans forward, still pretending that he cares. “Weird? Do tell.”

“I think I met one of the people that is in these statements. Not a victim, but one of the people causing supernatural things to happen. I think it was Jane Prentiss, the one with all the worms.” He fidgets nervously, hoping that Elias will drop it there. No such luck.

“Did she do anything to you?” This time compulsion rings in the question.

“Yes, she followed me to my apartment and tried to kill me with worms.” Now’s his chance to come up with a convincing lie, “She trapped me in there for a little while, then suddenly she was gone. I’m not sure what happened to her.”

“Hmm. That is worrying,” he says, without a trace of worry in his expression. He leans back in his chair, content with whatever information he’s gleaned from the conversation. “Now, as for why I called you up here.” 

Elias gently reprimands Martin for some supposedly improper filing. A blatant excuse for having been able to ask about the Prentiss situation. Martin puts on a show of being properly cowed and promises to fix the issue. 

As he stands to leave, Elias speaks once more, “Really, Martin. Someone with your  _ qualifications _ should know better.” At the word ‘qualifications’ Martin flinches. Does Elias know he lied on his CV? 

That one sentence makes Martin feel like he’s treading on thin ice.  _ What else does he know? Did Jon make it to my apartment in time to keep him from seeing anything? Or does he know everything and- _

Weaver interrupts him, nearly causing them to slip on the stairs down to the Archives.  **What if the bauble doesn’t even work and he knows everything Jon knows? What if he’s just toying with us? Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment to kill us? What if he shows me something I don’t want to know again?**

_ What if he’s reading our minds right now? What if he knows everything? _ Martin and Weaver’s thoughts bounce off of each other and slowly spiral downwards until they find themselves in the archives, sitting in their chair hyperventilating. They barely notice Tim and Sasha hovering above them, concerned looks on their faces and soft words coming out of their mouths. 

"Martin, breathe." They can make out Sasha's breathing as she speaks, calm and slow. "One, two three, breathe. You are safe. You are among friends. There is no threat here." 

Their breathing begins to slow to a more normal pace and they can hear Tim speak up. "How do you know how to do this, Sash?”

“Let’s just say that interactions with the supernatural aren’t exactly the calmest moments in life.” Sasha’s hands are on Martin’s, grounding him for the moment. 

Martin and Weaver take a few minutes to calm themselves down enough to be able to speak. “It’s… Elias. He… threatened me. Sort of. He’s,” Weaver imagines he can almost feel Elias’ gaze on them right now. “I can’t say, but just don’t trust him. He’s not” who you think he is? Is that too on the nose? “He’s not got our best interests in mind.”

“Alright, Martin. You aren’t exactly making a lot of sense right now. Why would he threaten you? And why can’t we trust him?” Sasha’s look of concern only grows. “Do we need to take you somewhere? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just, well, we need to find Jon. He can hopefully explain everything.” Not exactly the truth, but Elias doesn’t need to know that. Once Weaver has the bauble, he can share everything with Sasha and Tim. 

“Is he not in his office? I figured boss man just shut himself in there again.” Tim looks confused, but going with it anyway. 

Weaver thinks for a moment. He can find Jon but it might look suspicious to Elias. At this point, he deems it worth the risk. “He’s not. But I think I know where he is. Who’s up for an archival field trip?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, one more chapter in Part 1. See ya next week! 
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudo to fuel the writing gremlin inside of me.


	11. Title [Redacted]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the end of part one! Hope it's okay, even if it's a bit late. I'll start posting part 2 in a month or so. I'm gonna take a bit of a break first. 
> 
> Read the end notes for more info on additional works.
> 
> As always, you can follow me on tumblr @irbsandcheese if you really want to.
> 
> EDIT (12/13/20): So break has been a bit longer than I thought, but I am actively working on the next chapter now! I've still got some stuff to get handled before I start posting again, but expect an update within a week or two. Thanks for being patient!

\---

A short nap turned into about six hours of deep sleep for Jon. The Archivist is pretty sure they needed it though, because both of them were exhausted by the time they passed out on the couch well after two in the morning. The Archivist wakes up first, so he’s careful to avoid thinking too much as he makes morning coffee. 

Georgie’s apartment is familiar in a sense and it takes very little brain power to go through the motions of waking up. 

He’s halfway through making himself a cup of coffee when he Knows that Georgie is about to get up, so he makes another cup and pours it up for her.

Minutes pass and sure enough, Georgie walks in, bed head just barely contained in a hair band. 

The Archivist puts on a smile, hoping she’ll be relatively comfortable before he starts dropping metaphorical bombshells. “Ah, Georgie. Good morning. I made you some coffee, just how you like it. Should be just cooled off enough to drink.” 

“Thanks, Jon. Feeling a little more sane this morning?”

“In a sense.” The Archivist hesitates, checking to make sure Jon is still asleep. “I’m sorry for intruding on you so late last night. But I do suppose some explanations are in order.” He runs his hands through his hair, considering where to start. 

As if able to read his mind, “What were you talking about with being possessed?” Georgie prompts.

“Ah, well that part is easiest to explain. But it will sound crazy. Are you alright with me giving some proof to back up my claims? They might get a little… intrusive.”

She eyes him curiously, “What kind of intrusive?”

The Archivist sighs. He was hoping to get some sort of permission before bringing up her past traumas. “The kind of intrusive where I know things about you that you’ve never told anyone. The kind of intrusive that brings up some unpleasant memories.”

She gives a thoughtful hum, considering. “Alright, lay it on me. But I’m going to need a second cup of coffee first.” She stands, making her way back to the coffee pot and pours herself another mug. Returning to the couch, she prepares for the worst. “Okay. What horribly embarrassing secrets of mine do you somehow know?”

He takes in one more deep breath, preparing to change his relationship with the current Georgie, to put his trust in her. “You’ve felt the moment you will die, as clear as crystal. You’ve seen the supernatural first hand and watched it take your friend. You’ve met death, and you didn’t flinch. Because you can’t feel fear anymore.”

Each word is another stab at Georgie’s heart. She sets her mug down and leans forward, her hands on her knees. “How do you know that?” Her voice shakes, not with fear, but with anger.

The Archivist pulls a hand up to his eyes, unable to look at Georgie as he shatters her view of the world. “Because I’m not your Jon. Because you told me. Because I’m from the future. And I am currently sharing a body with a version of myself that I’m not too fond of.”

The look in Georgie’s eyes quickly goes from angry to inquisitive and excited. She snatches a notepad out of a nearby drawer and begins to write. “How does that work? Do you take turns? Do you have control at the same time? Can you talk to each other? Can you see each other in a sort of metaphysical way?” She pauses for a moment, seemingly realizing something. “Is he okay? He seemed a little… off last night. I’m guessing he isn’t taking the whole sharing a body thing very well.”

“Er, something like that, I suppose.” The Archivist can’t help the guilty expression that crosses his face. He takes a sip from his coffee to try to cover it up, but he’s too late.

“I know that look. What is it?” She’s known Jon for long enough to know when he’s hiding something. Even if it isn’t exactly her Jon.

He knows he probably should have explained things to Jon earlier, but it never seemed like the right time. And now he’s been caught red handed. “He, um, he doesn’t know yet.”

Georgie looks like she’s about to explode with anger. “WHAT?! Jonathan Sims, you’re telling me your past self doesn’t even Know Who You Are? Are you mad?”

Georgie, it’s compli-”

“What in the world is wrong with you? What would you do if you were suddenly, I don’t know, taken over by an unknown force and/or losing bits of time? Cause I know you and I’d say you would go absolutely bonkers!” Georgie takes a second to breathe, before fixing the Archivist with a glare that could kill. “You have to tell him. Now. Dredge him out of whatever corner you stuffed him in and talk to him, goddammit.”

“It’s not so simple. He- he thinks Martin, my uh, assistant, is an evil fear avatar. And he can’t be. He’s, I Knew him. I knew everything about him. He can’t be part of the Web. He wouldn’t manipulate me like that. He couldn’t.” The Archivist’s fear begins to take over his thoughts. “Or could he? If he was spinning threads this entire time just to manipulate me, I might have never noticed. I had blind spots in the apocalypse, and one of them was me. Maybe because I’d been strung along the whole time. What if he was playing me the whole time? What if-”

“Stop it, Jon. You’re just going to wind up digging a hole of ‘what if’s for yourself. Take a breath, and start from the beginning. What’s this about a web and the apocalypse?”

He sighs and takes a moment to focus his thoughts. “Alright, I suppose you’ll need the full explanation. This might take a while. So there are these entities that sort of feed on our fear, they are our fear.”

\---

“I travelled back in time to leave a note; it was only supposed to be for a few minutes, but then I got stuck here. Sharing a body with my past self.”

She thinks back through the tidal wave of information, having not interrupted the entire time so she could absorb everything. “So my, um, experience was with the End?”

“Yes, you’ve been marked by it in a sense. It might even recruit you if it gets the chance. I’m not entirely sure. It’s been hard getting used to not Knowing things anymore.” He rubs his temple, frustrated. His powers aren’t as strong as they used to be.

She files that piece of info away for later. All knowing demigod is no longer all knowing. She sorts through the questions in her mind to find the most important ones to ask. “So you and Martin. The way you talked about him, seemed like he was more than just your assistant.”

The Archivist’s cheeks heat up, only slightly embarrassed. “Yes, we were together. It happened just before the world ended, before he was taken in by the Web. He actually did it to save you. You and Melanie. But that’s a story for another time.”

“And current Martin now has spidery powers too, right?” She sees him nod in agreement, a look of disdain on his face. The gears turn in Georgie’s head, considering. “Could it be possible, just a theory, that your version of Martin also travelled back in time with you and wound up in current Martin’s body? That would explain why he has powers now.”

“No, I was the only one to go through the portal.” The Archivist deflects, hesitant to get his hopes up.

“Maybe he followed you when you didn’t come back? You said you knew him well, and I don’t think someone could have kept a secret like being an evil fear avatar for so long from you. It has to be him from the future. Stuck here, like you.”

He hadn’t even wanted to entertain the possibility for fear of disappointment. But now that it’s there in front of him, it seems as obvious as a slap in the face. And yet a sliver of doubt still remains. “I don’t- But we agreed he wouldn’t come. It was too risky.” His voice only wobbles a little as he speaks.

“If I was the one who loved you like that, I know it wouldn’t stop me if something went wrong.” She gives him a small smile and a look that says ‘you’re a dumbass sometimes.’ “Even if it isn’t him, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The Archivist takes a moment to seriously consider. All the possibilities spin through his head and none of them are worse than if Martin’s been lying to him the entire time. 

The Archivist’s thoughts are interrupted by a loud buzzing sound. Georgie starts in surprise, then makes her way over to the door to see who’s appeared at her apartment this early in the morning. She takes a look and is about to walk back to the couch when she sees the look on Jon’s face.

The Archivist Knows who is at the door. It’s Martin.  _ His _ Martin, maybe. And Tim and Sasha. He gasps a little at the sight. He says his name in almost a whisper. “Martin.” His eyes go wide and he twists in his seat to look at Georgie. “Let them in. Please. It’s him.”

Georgie hesitates for only a few seconds before buzzing them up. 

The Archivist throws the door open before Martin even gets the chance to knock, staring dumbfounded at Martin. Searching him for any sign that it’s  _ him _ , that it’s his Martin.

Martin takes a half step back in surprise when the door’s open and speaks quickly as if reciting a script. “Alright, Jon, I know you’re confused and I know you're scared, but I promise I would never hurt you. I know about the letter you got recently because I-” He doesn’t even get to finish his explanation before the Archivist is on him, wrapping his arms around his Martin.

“Oh, Martin. I missed you.” He can sense Martin tense up, processing what’s happening for a moment. But it only takes moments for everything to apparently click into place and Martin wraps his arms around his Jon, where they belong.

Their embrace is tight and warm and the best thing that has happened to the Archivist since, well, a very long time. He runs his hand along the fuzz of Martin’s sweater like it’s the softest thing in the world. The strangest sensation is that the familiar chill of the Lonely is nowhere to be found.

The sound of rustling fabric is interrupted by Martin, “Do you mind giving us a moment please?” He pauses, as if letting someone else speak. “Thank you, Martin.”

The Archivist pulls back and looks up, concerned but Martin quickly makes to soothe his worries.

“Oh, we’ve been calling the version of me from this timeline ‘Martin’ and myself Weaver. I’m not quite used to it yet, but that’s what Martin’s been calling me since the Prentiss incident.”

“So… you talk to your current self? Even right now?”

“Well, yeah. He’s like a talking shadow right now. Able to watch and listen but without any substance of his own. We’ve made it work. Are you saying you don’t talk to Jon at all?”

As if in answer, Jon finally wakes up, agitated from all the excitement. He blinks his eyes for a moment and suddenly pushes Weaver away. “Get away from me, Monster! How did you find me here? What did you do to me!? Who is possessing me? Why can’t I remember anything?” Static in the air only grows with every question.

Weaver feels compelled to answer. “I followed the strings that bind us, I didn’t do anything, my Jon, and he is an idiot.” The words tumble out of his mouth and once he’s able to stop himself, he tries to be comforting again. “Jon, I’m not going to hurt you. I came here with the letter, Jon and I both did. You can trust us, just like you can trust your assistants.”

“You want me to  _ trust _ you?! You who weaves and manipulates and lies and, and,” He looks behind Weaver, seemingly noticing Tim and Sasha for the first time. “And strung my assistants along just to trick me?” Jon is nearing hysterics now, when Georgie puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Jon, just breathe. The person possessing you explained everything to me. Just take a deep breath and we can explain it to you.” Jon takes deep breaths, focusing on Georgie and not the monster in the room with him.

“I’m not possessing him, we went over this.” The Archivist helpfully supplies, momentarily taking over their voice.

“Stop Doing That!” Jon shouts, quickly losing his mind as he loses control over his own body. 

The Archivist wrests control back and attempts to calm Jon down, “Listen, I’m you from the future and I’m the one who left that letter for you. You need to calm down and hear us out.”

_ CALM DOWN? YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN? Then give me my body back and get the hell out of here.  _ Jon practically screams into their mind.

The Archivist flinches at the internal monologue. “Ah, I can’t leave, but I can give you autonomy again for a while, but you have to try to stay calm while we explain things.” He desperately hope this will work. “Martin, could you make us a cup of tea? I think he needs something to help him relax.”

The room quiets down some while the Archivist mentally wrestles with his past self and Martin makes some tea for everyone. The silence is tense and awkward when Tim’s voice cuts through it. “Hey, so um… What the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, Part one ending how the first chapter did. What the Fuck.
> 
> This chapter might feel a little rushed, which is a good sign that I need a break before working on part 2. I'll probably come back to this in a few weeks to a month. 
> 
> In the meantime, I might update the second part in this series, "Shrouded Vision" some, and give Elias' perspective. And maybe a Web!Martin origin story if I'm feeling it. 
> 
> As always, you can follow me on Tunglr dawt cawm @irbsandcheese for random bullshit. See ya in a while!


	12. An Explanation is in Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Back! Happy holidays and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. This took a while to write because you know, life happened. But I'll be trying to post a chapter every week or two until part 2 is done!
> 
> Tim's perspective ended up being much longer than the Archivist's this chapter, but I promise we'll get some fun shenanigans with the four boys soon!
> 
> Thank you all for reading this far and being patient! It's been awesome seeing feedback from you all and I hope to see you soon for the next chapter.
> 
> Also I'm too impatient to proofread this so RIP
> 
> As always, you can find me on Tunglr @irbsandcheese if you want random bs on your dash.

Tim and Sasha watch on, baffled as two people have a conversation meant for four. Finally, Tim's realized that they aren't going to learn anything unless Jon and Martin… and the other two calm down enough to explain. Keeping it simple, he waits until a break in the conversation and chimes in. "Hey, so um… What the fuck?” His brain isn’t in much of a condition to come up with anything more coherent. 

Scanning the room, Tim comes to a conclusion. The people in the room consist of him and Sasha, confused as all hell, two lunatics, and a woman sitting with a cup of coffee, seemingly amused at what’s going on. He locks on to her, about to ask if she cares to explain anything when Jon rushes up to him and frantically grabs his shoulders. “Wait, you don’t know what’s going on either? I thought Martin lured you here and- Martin wouldn’t do anything like that. He’s probably just- You shut up, monster. Tim, Sasha, you have to help me I’m being controlled by- I’m not controlling you, we’re sharing. I belong here too you- Stop Doing That! You two have to help me. Maybe there’s something in the Archives that- Or you could just let us explain it to you. It’s honestly my bad for not informing you of- How do I know you’ll tell the truth? You might be an entity of the Web too and Oh God you’ve been-” 

Tim tries to make sense of the gibberish coming from Jon’s mouth when Martin interrupts. “Jon, I know it’s scary and strange but Weaver explained everything to me and we can make it work. Just give your, uh,” Martin pauses for a second, posing the next question to no one in particular. “What should we call him? Alright.” Turning back to Jon, he continues. “Give the Archivist a chance to explain and if you want, Weaver and I will leave or stay in the corner or something. I don’t know, but we’ll do whatever we can to help you understand what’s going on.”

Tim considers asking who the Archivist and Weaver are, when the Archivist seems to answer. “I suppose I should have handled this with more tact, but we’re here now so let us explain and then you can make your decision about us. Not that we can exactly leave, but we can still help.” Jon says, with a voice that is far calmer than he looks. Tim can see that there are more people in the room than there appear to be, the biggest question at this point is who are the two extras that are stuck with Jon and Martin. 

“Can we get an explanation as well? Like who you are and how you wound up here?” Tim speaks with a confidence he doesn’t have, as even though he knows some things about the supernatural, it’s a whole other experience having something happen to you and those around you. Again. 

Jon, at least he thinks it’s Jon, speaks up. “Fine. I’ll listen to you and Georgie explain. But I want that… that Thing,” His eyes look with disdain at Martin, “To stay in the corner and don’t say a word. I don’t want you manipulating anyone.”

Martin sighs, seemingly resigned to being treated as a threat for a while longer. “Very well. Would you like a cup of tea before I’m forced to sit in silence?”

The daggers Jon glares at him are enough of an answer. Martin makes his way to the kitchen and Tim hears the sounds of a kettle being put on.

“You two care to take a seat while this knucklehead explains some things?” The woman, presumably Georgie, addresses Tim and Sasha. Wordlessly, they take seats next to each other on the small sofa and watch as Jon sits back down to prepare for another very long explanation.

\---

"And so we made a plan to try and change the past. I was going to leave Jon a note and in theory we'd bounce back to the fixed timeline." Weaver resides in a seat in the corner after making tea for everyone. Tim hasn’t touched his, too enraptured by the story that Jon, no, the Archivist is telling. The Archivist gives Weaver a pointed look, "Then something went wrong and  _ someone _ decided to come after me and get stuck in the past too." 

Thoughts and connections race through Tim’s mind. Danny, the circus, fear entities, so many questions answered and even more popping up. 

Weaver speaks up for the first time in hours, apparently feeling the need to speak after being directly addressed. "I didn't exactly follow you. Well, I did, just not willingly."

Thoughts race quickly, one after another through Tim's mind.  _ How did these time travellers even get here? What do they know about Danny, and the Circus? What does his future have in store for him? _

"Did Helen push you in or something? I wouldn't think her so self destructive." The Archivist’s eyes flash green for a moment, then he winces, seemingly frustrated.

_ How does he even know if they're telling the truth? The evil entities could very well be trying to play a trick on the archives, if they even exist.  _

"No, I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I could feel our own personal web as it pulled me through the doorway." Weaver stops as a thought occurs to him. A sly smile appears on his face. "Seems like I can't exist in a world without you anymore."

_ If they are legit, can they help him get his brother back? Or at least make the Circus pay for what they did? _

“If you really are from the future,” Tim interrupts, not having noticed the conversation, “What is the one thing I want to ask you about the most right now?" 

The Archivist smiles gently and is already a few steps ahead of Tim. “He wouldn’t want you to get too caught up in revenge, but I can show you a few statements in the Archives about the circus.” The smile turns sad as he talks, “The… well, in my timeline, you became obsessed with finding them and destroying them. And I don’t want you to succumb to the same fate this time around. So be careful.”

Hit with the genuine concern obvious in his voice, Tim nods solemnly. He has no intent to let the Circus get away with what they did to him, but he knows how to be careful. 

The Archivist speaks up again, “Sasha? You need anything to convince you I’m telling the truth? Jon, do you?”

After a beat of silence where Jon doesn’t respond, Sasha brings a hand up to her face in a mock thinking expression. “Hmmm. Nah, I’m good. I already know that spooky things happen in the world and at this point, this might as well happen. Plus I’ve got a knack for knowing when someone’s lying, and you most certainly aren’t. And Tim seems to believe you.” She looks over at him and her face creases with worry as she directs her words at him. “You okay there?”

He looks up at her, and her form is slightly blurrier than usual. He starts to speak, but finds his words caught in his throat. Trying again, it comes out muted, but audible. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“Tim, you’re crying.” She reaches up to swipe a tear from his cheek, holding her hand in front of his face like she’s showing off evidence. 

“...Oh.” He reaches his own hand up to clear his vision. He’s not entirely sure why he’s crying. Tears of anger or sadness or loss. It doesn’t matter to him much though, his thoughts are far more focused on his determination to find the Circus and make them pay. Or at least make it so they can’t hurt anyone else.

Before he knows it, Sasha is taking his hand and leading him out of the room. “We’re gonna walk back to the Archives. It’s a lot to think about.” She turns to Tim and continues speaking, much softer. “Do you need a minute? Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Tim assures, even as he’s wiping more tears from his eyes.

“Remember, you can’t talk about any of this unless you are in the same area as me.” The Archivist helpfully reminds them, as if he hadn’t said that exact fact at least seven times in their explanation. 

“Yes, Dad,” Sasha replies, exasperatedly. “All seeing boss is not something I’m going to forget about easily.” She continues to whisper soft reassurances to Tim as she ushers him out the door and back to the Archives, their home now turned battleground.

\---

The Archivist can sense Jon’s hesitance. He hasn’t spoken since they finished their explanation. If he didn't know himself better, he'd say he was trying to apologize. But that's not exactly Jon's style. So the Archivist makes sure Jon has free reign of their vocal chords and waits for him to respond.

Soon enough, Jon does speak, with a learned formality that is easy to fall back on. “I… I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute.”

Weaver laughs for a moment, but cuts himself off when Jon’s face remains serious. “Oh, well then. I suppose in a way I have met you, it’s just been a while. I’m Martin Blackwood, Weaver of Webs, I suppose.”

The Archivist doesn't quite know how he feels about that particular title, but he decides to leave it for now. Instead he turns his attention inwards. Might as well start trying to make himself a better person while he's here. “So does this mean you’ll finally admit you were wrong to accuse him of being evil and murderous?” the Archivist directs to Jon.

“I wasn’t wrong… Just not entirely correct. Besides, he did murder Prentiss. Or, what was left of her.” He can feel Jon's indignation. The Archivist sighs inwardly. Slow and steady is the road to change.

Weaver crosses his arms, seemingly miffed by the accusation. “That hardly counts. That was self defense and she was basically dead anyway.”

The Archivist takes no time jumping to his love's aid. “Not that it matters because My Martin is not evil and has the best of intentions at heart.”

“He may not be entirely evil. But that does remind me.” The Archivist mentally shrinks away, already knowing what Jon’s going to ask. “What exactly did you mean when you said you were more evil than Martin, er Weaver?”

“Ah. Well. I’ve done some pretty terrible things in order to survive. I’m not proud of them, and hopefully I won’t have to do them this time around.” Jon doesn’t need to know that one of those things was ending the world. Accident or not, it was still the Archivist’s fault. “Well then, anything else, or should we be getting back to the archives?” The Archivist says entirely too cheerily, eager to change the topic.

"Well, there is one thing. I um, I suppose I'll have to stay in the background for the most part, so we don't arouse Elias' suspicions." Weaver's disappointment is obvious and the Archivist can feel it through their connection. Reaching out for his hand, the Archivist searches for another solution. He just got his Martin back, and he doesn't want to lose him again.

The answer is simple and complicated at the same time. "Move in with me." He blurts out, before he loses his confidence. "As long as we're near each other and your eye, we'll be safe. And it'll give the four of us a chance to get used to living together."

The Archivist feels Jon's influence trying to take over, and reluctantly concedes. Sharing like this is going to be difficult. "No way. No way in hell, I barely trust you lot and now you want me to live with all of you? No. Not happening."  _ Besides, Martin probably has nightly visitors and friends that he wants to get to, rather than share with someone like me. _ Jon stops at the thought before it strays anywhere unproductive.

Weaver's confidence almost seems to drain out of him as Martin takes over to speak. "I, um. I think I think that's a good idea? I don't really… I'm not exactly comfortable going back to my own place after uh everything. So as long as you don't mind…" Martin trails off, leaving the rest of the room to finish the sentence themselves. 

Weaver quickly takes the gap of silence Martin leaves and quiets the Archivist's fears. "Of course I'll move in with you. You may not be all-knowing anymore, but surely you know me still."

The Archivist shakes the expression of doubt off of his face and replaces it with unbridled joy.  **Oh dear, haven't felt that in a while.** "It's settled then. We'll help you move your essentials over to my place and you'll be able to stay within the radius of the bauble while we stay together. Thank you, Georgie, for-" He turns towards the spot Georgie had been sitting in half an hour ago and finds it vacant. "Uh, where'd she go?"

Weaver smirks and looks at the Archivist with a dopey look. "You know, for someone who was omnescient, you really aren't very observant. She said half an hour ago that she was going to go work on an episode."

"Oh. Well then. I suppose I'll go find her and thank her for letting us stay here for um," he glances at the clock only to realize that most of the day has passed. "Oh quite a while I suppose. Might should save the moving for tomorrow when we have daylight."

Martin smiles, or is it Weaver? Maybe both, and Martin nods his head eagerly. "Thank you so much Jon, er, Archivist. I look forward to um, spending some time together maybe?" He looks hopeful, despite the obvious flush of his face. 

The Archivist nods a quick 'You're welcome and rushes out of the room. Even after all this time, the sight of Martin blushing is enough to make his cheeks redden as well. He is and always has been incredibly cute.


End file.
